


Monster Testing

by V_mum



Series: Aboveworld Tales [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A fuck ton of Anxiety from Frisk, After 'Mother and Child', Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Papyrus, Brotherly Sans, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Like, References will be made to the typical Frisk Backstory, Skelebro Angst, Soo, Warning: humans are fucked up, and a wild chase scene to come, and other stuff, and stuff, mindfuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This had happened 50 times at the least, the memories came back and they relived each one as they remembered them. </p><p>Sans was coming down the hall, they could feel his magic coming, thrumming with rage.</p><p>He’d see his brother’s dust.</p><p>This wasn’t allowed to happen in this Frisk's timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assume the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys if you thought the last one was bad get fucking ready.
> 
> As my favorite undertale authors says: BUCKLE YOUR SEAT BELTS, KIDS, WE'RE GOING ON A FEELS TRIP AND ITS GUNNA BE A BUMPY RIDE

“Hey! Hey, hey, dude!”

The excited calls of Monster Kid prompted Frisk to look up from their book in surprise. School had just ended for the day, various monster children streaming from the open front doors of the school and into the light falling snow flakes of the afternoon.

Frisk, as normal, was waiting for Sans to show up for the walk home, like every afternoon. He’d show up in a few minutes, when he finished up with whatever it was he did during his new job as a teacher’s aide. He’d quit his part timer janitor job for obvious reasons after Frisk’s last fight. He never really liked working for the human school much, anyway. He much preferred helping out at the School for Monsters’. It was still only a part time gig, but sometimes Frisk spotted him helping or reading in the school library, and other times Frisk would spot him sneaking away to his knew nap location in the janitor’s closet.

As for the walking home, yeah, they were still neighbors and were at the same place when the day ended, so it did make sense they still walked home together. But after the revelation that Sans walked Frisk home from the old school because he was suspicious of Humans (rightly so, he had been proven) and didn’t want them walking alone through the human city to go home, Frisk couldn’t help wondering why Sans still walked them home, now that they weren’t leaving the monster inhabited area of Ebott Mountain. Whether he genuinely enjoyed walking and talking with them, or if it was just convenient, or because he was being serious about that whole ‘Frisk needs a body guard’ thing, Frisk didn’t really know for sure. Frisk quietly hoped it was the first, or at least, that was a part of it.

Speaking of Sans, he seemed much better than he did in the Hospital, though it had taken the last month for him to look so. Every night of the last week save a few, Frisk heard him shouting awake next door or felt his magic pulsing all the way in their room. They’d spent every night together since the hospital trip except the first 3 nights after Frisk’s discharge; he hadn’t even tried to sleep at all for those three. He hadn’t attempted for a couple of those other days, either.

Thankfully, though, he was getting better. He’d gotten enough sleep to at least be active during the day- that is, _Sans’ Brand Active_ ; meaning it was mostly naps, but he was still back to his normal level of operation. Papyrus was probably a big help to that, or so Frisk thought. Papyrus always had a magic to helping his friends up and out of holes with all his encouragements, especially his brother; it was something Papyrus was used to and had worked with for years in regards to his sibling.

He’d been here with Sans the day the shorter skeleton applied for the new part time aid job and had all but screamed praise and congrats when Sans got the position, much to both Frisk and Sans’ amusement. And Frisk knew from being with Sans all night up to morning, that in the mornings Papyrus would throw the door open and all but force the lazybones out of bed, both scowling at Sans’ slow movements and lack of enthusiasm, but exclaiming wild encouragement and random plans for the day. Sans’ grin was always just a bit more real on those mornings, and Frisk would giggle excitedly and nod along when Papyrus threw them some of that morning brightness and announced that the three of them should get breakfast and get to their amazing day. Papyrus also liked walking with them to school sometimes, which was fun, between his exasperation at Sans’ jokes and letting Frisk ride on his shoulders and striking up weird riddles- ‘word puzzles’ as he called them or talking animatedly, waving and making hand gestures in his passion.

Honestly, Papyrus kept both of their spirits up after the trying hospital stay and the events surrounding it or revealed during it. Frisk noticed he’d been more attentive to them or watchful of them since then, too, but after having not one, not two, not three, but _four_ panic attacks in his presence and toping them off by spouting endless waterfalls of information and pain that they’d been dealing with… well, Frisk couldn’t say they’d expect any different. Certainly, _everyone_ had been on their toes and overly careful in dealing with them. Papyrus included; he was watchful and careful to listen to anything they said, as if searching deep for any possible double meanings to their action or words, but, he acted as he normally would, and for that, Frisk was so very thankful.

Papyrus had experience with things of this nature, unlike everyone else in the circle of friends who’d experienced Frisk’s breakdowns. After all, Papyrus’d helped keep his brother, who’s mostly given up through his underground struggles and total isolation as the only one who knew the truth and had to kill their friend shortly after that friend had killed their brother, going through an incredibly dark depression. For the most part, Papyrus’ methods with Sans applied well with Frisk, too. Frisk found themselves more comfortable than ever when around Papyrus, and like Sans, Frisk stated to take every opportunity to call Papyrus “awesome”, “cool”, “amazing”, and all else they could, with almost the same bragging tone when they got to refer to Toriel as “mom”.

Which included mornings with the brothers having breakfast and sitting next to Sans, and the two would just go back and forth talking about how _awe-inspiring_ Papyrus was, how much of an _incredible_ guy he was, he was just so _cool_. Papyrus would make breakfast beaming with pride in the light of their praise, grinning as wide as Sans. Said shorter skeleton seemed quite happy with this new development of their morning routines, which only furthered his day-to-day improvement to his normal self. Frisk got better, too. And Papyrus’ sunken mood during the hospital stay for the most part evaporated. And, just to make all of it better, now their mornings were as awesome as Papyrus was.

Frisk smiled at the memories, and took a quick look around the departing groups of monster students to check for Sans’ appearance –noting he was not here yet, apparently- before returning their attention to Monster Kid.

They slid off the metallic green-painted playground bench as the yellow scaled dino-kid raced over the play field’s grass- almost tripping in the process- and bounced from foot to foot excitedly as Frisk set down their book on the bench and turned to their overly excited friend.

“Frisk, Frisk, my parents said- they said I could go over to a friend’s house today! You wanna hang out and have a sleepover? It’ll be my first above ground sleep over!”

Sleepover? Frisk grinned and nodded. It’d be Frisk’s first sleepover, too- not counting falling asleep at Alphys’ during anime night that one time (Toriel had still come and picked them up) or the nights with Sans.

Kid whooped excitedly, bouncing high a couple of times. “It’ll be rad! We can watch TV and stay up all night, and- uh- pillow fights! I'm training hard, so ill destroy you in a pillow fight! This’ll be awesome!”

“need to tell mom.” Frisk reminded, pointing their thumb over their shoulder at the school.

Oh, how nice it felt to be able to say ‘mom’ and not have to worry about a hoard of humans getting uncomfortable at the memory that Frisk’s mom was a very large monster woman. There would be no teasing from Kid and no racist humans-cant-have-monster-moms commentary. It felt so nice.

Frisk loved being able to publicly call Toriel mom again.

Kid nodded, “Yeah, I sup’pose you gotta.” He bobbed excitedly again, “I’ll go home and get, like, all sorts of stuff ready! I’ll pack- oh- pajamas, and snacks, and pillows- lots of pillows for the pillow war!” They both beamed at each other, excited, “I’ll see you at your house soon, right dude?”

Frisk started to nod, then hesitated and shook their head. “I’ll come with you. Walk to my house together?” although Frisk was sure Monster Kid would find a way when he thought about it hard enough, Frisk didn’t want to make him carry all the things he was planning on bringing. He wasn’t quite… _armed_ properly for such a task.

Where was Sans at when Frisk had such great puns, anyway?

Curse him for making Frisk so punny but for never being around for Frisk to tell him the jokes.

Monster Kid jumped energetically at the idea. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be able to bring two times as many snacks with two of us!”

Frisk grinned, “And double the pillows.”

Kid’s eyes sparkled. “You’re amazing, Frisk.”

“Don’t we all know it.”

Ah. Look who arrived.

There was the smiling Skeleton now, suddenly standing behind Monster Kid and looking quite amused when Kid jumped and spun around. “Whoa, Sans, you’re sneaky, dude.”

“I try my best, punk.” Sans snickered to himself. “What are you two up to, then? Some sort of weird pillow shenanigans I should be aware of?”

“An ubber-awesome pillow war!” Monster Kid corrected, and probably would have fist pumped if he had the proper appendages. “It’ll be rad! With pillow forts and pillow fights!”

Sans’ grin stretch wider, but it was… too forceful. “You kids sound like you have great plans.”

Frisk hesitated.

They watched a single bead of sweat roll down the surface of bone a short distance.

Something is wrong.

Frisk put a hand on Monster Kid’s would-be-shoulder (if he’d had arms). “Go on. Catch up at your house soon. I’ll tell mom, yeah?”

Monster Kid didn’t miss a beat, still as excited as ever. “Right! I’ll get home and start packing my favorite snacks! You want anything?”

“Cina-bunnies?” Frisk put forward, turning back to the bench to stuff their book into their striped-dark-and-light-blue school bag.

“Heck yeah! those things are great! Ill pack a bunch! I’ll take your stuff there for you!” He didn’t wait a second and suck his head through one of the bag’s arm straps, and with a sharp nudge he sung it around onto his back, over top his own bright red one-strapped bag.

And the yellow kid raced off excitedly at a speed he probably shouldn’t use, because he tripped after only a second and landed what looked to be really hard. He hopped back up to his feet, though, like the durable kid he was, and continued on his way.

Frisk turned away from Sans with one short, silent glance and took a step toward the doors of the school, most of the other monster children already walking away down the sidewalks for home. Frisk glanced back and Sans was still there. He wasn’t moving, nor looking at them if the lack of glow in his eyes meant anything, head still turned to the same place Frisk had been before they’d moved. A few more beads of sweat welled into existence on his forehead. He was thinking over something, hard.

Frisk turned back and stood still, waiting.

“Have you seen Pap?” he finally asked, his head tilting up to Frisk’s new position though his eyes didn’t focus back yet.

Frisk hesitated, searched their thoughts… nothing. Not since yesterday, and Sans had been there for that. Frisk shook their head slowly, not sure what was going on.

One skeleton hand slipped out of his pocket; capital letters that resembled, in a ridiculous way, the font Papyrus happened to be named for scrawled in black pen over the lined paper.

SANS!

I WILL NOT BE HOME FOR AN HOUR! I AM LEAVING TO SURPRISE OUR HUMAN FRIEND AT SCHOOL! IF YOU WAKE UP TO THIS NOTE BEFORE I HAVE RETURNED AND I AM NOT THERE, THEN I AM AWAY RETREAVING THE HUMAN FROM SCHOOL!

DO NOT TELL TORIEL! IT IS A SURPRISE FOR THE HUMAN BUT TORIEL WILL NOT APROOVE US SKIPPING THE HUMAN’S CLASSES, SO DO NOT TELL HER!

I WILL BE BACK WITH THE HUMAN SOON TO SHOW THEM THE SURPRISE ‘FRISK SPAGEHTTII’ RECIPIE I MADE THEM! IT HAS GLITTER AND CINNAMON! I KNOW THEY WILL BE EXCITED AND WILL MAKE THEIR DAY EXTRA BRIGHT! THEY DESERVE IT! BECAUSE THEY ARE THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ FRIEND, THAT IS WHY, OF COURSE!

AND THEN WE WILL TRAIN AND PRACTICE TOGETHER! BECAUSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS A GOOD FRIEND AND ~~KNOWS THE SMALL HUMAN HAS BEEN STRESSED EVER SINCE THE HOSPITAL AND I AM STILL CONCERNED~~ BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT FOR BEING A GOOD FRIEND! IT WILL BE A GOOD DAY!

I WILL RETURN SOON!

Frisk frowned. The silently decided to ignore the scribbled out words still legible under the pen marks. There was time later to be worried about making Papyrus worry about them. Right now, there was something wrong with Sans. And despite this note, Papyrus had not shown up at school today.

Frisk told Sans that much; that no, Papyrus hadn’t been here. His grip tightened and the paper crumbled underneath it, before he stuffed the page back in his pocket.

“…I woke up to this note on my face around lunch time.” He muttered. “Went back to sleep… he’s still not back yet. You sure you haven’t seen him?”

Frisk shook their head.

But they shouldn’t assume the worst, right?

“…Maybe… caught by Mom?” What if Papyrus just wasn’t as good at sneaking kids out of school as he thought? Maybe he was just in Toriel’s office. It wouldn’t be the first time Toriel had made him sit in time out.

Sans looked up at the school, and a wheeze of air sounding like relief escaped between his teeth. “You’re right, kid. The mighty _Mom-ster_ probably just has him sitting in the corner for trying to sneak you out.”

Frisk smiled and nodded, chuckling at his slid-in joke. Frisk grabbed his arm and pulled his hand out of his pocket, and then grabbed his hand, pulling him along.

Sans chuckled in return at their actions, and let them tug him up the front steps and inside, down some halls to the principal’s office and office of local mom-ster.


	2. Déjà Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where oh where did my skelebro go?

The halls were empty seeing as the majority of staff had left alongside the students; the exception being Toriel at work in her own office, and a single guidance counselor they’d crossed paths with as he left to go home, offering the pair of them a smile; Frisk had returned it and Sans offered a passing lazy wave that successful hid all signs of lingering anxiousness that Frisk could still feel lingering around him like a 6th sense.

It didn’t take long to reach the door that would lead into Toriel’s office, light from an afternoon sunset that would be seen from her office window pouring into the hall from under the door.

Sans knocked on the door. “knock knock?”

An excited giggle followed and some shuffling, and Toriel’s shadow appeared, blocking the light from under the door. Her voice sounded excited. “Who’s there?”

“A couple of people too short to ring a door bell.” Sans chuckled, interrupting the flow of a normal knock knock joke, aiming instead for a shorter one. He just wanted to see his brother as fast as possible; as much as he loved these silly jokes, he needed to make it quick.

Toriel found it as funny as any other knock knock joke.

She opened up the door, giggling the whole while and showing off her amusement in a bright smile, and didn’t hesitate to give both of them a big hug.

Nice, snug, and warm.

It made Frisk happy.

“Oh, my favorite short pair. I would have thought the two of you would be on your way home already.” She stood back up, smiling still, and stepped out of the way for them to enter.

The two did, and Frisk didn’t miss the subtle tightening in Sans’ hold on their hand and how that supposed 6th sense of attunement to his anxiousness shot up sky high.

No one else was here with Toriel. No idea where Papyrus was.

Frisk suddenly had a very, very bad feeling.

“m’gunna have a sleep over.” Frisk went first and their tone was a little slow as they churned over the absence of Papyrus, seeing as Sans was still looking around and not looking to say anything yet in his search for signs that his brother had been here. “Monster Kid s’ wanna come over.”

Toriel smiled warmer. “Oh, sounds like a great idea, since there’s no school tomorrow. I'm glad to hear you and a friend will be having a sleepover.” It was, actually, a step up from Frisk’s social isolation in their last school. A very _big_ step up. Frisk understood the renewed excitement in Toriel’s response.

They could understand it, yes, but they didn’t feel it anymore.

Toriel’s gaze was stolen toward Sans and Frisk noticed her excitement drain second by second, though she continued to Frisk, “…I’ll be sure to make us a nice pie for after dinner… does your friend like snails or butterscotch more?”

Clearly Toriel was getting distracted by Sans’ obvious distress, because Toriel seemed to be forgetting Kids’ severe allergy to snails; they’d experienced it firsthand one time when Monster Kid had tried one of Toriel’s snail-esc dinners and had needed his epi-pen. It hadn’t been all that long ago. Toriel clearly had the same 6th sense Frisk did; that, and Sans ah already visibly returned to the same state as outside.

Frisk didn’t bother responding to that question. A missing Papyrus was far more important. “Mom, you seen Papyrus today?”

Toriel looked to Frisk, blinking. “Papyrus? Yes, actually.”

Sans visibly relaxed, which prompted Toriel to continue.

“He looked odd when he saw me coming. I figured he was up to something and half expected he was helping Sans setup a prank. He skittered off.”

“Was that all?” Sans asked quickly. “Did’ja see where he went?”

Toriel shook her head, ruffling the fur on the back of neck with her hand as she rubbed it thoughtfully, concern bubbling in her gaze. “…I… think he hurried off in the direction toward the houses opposite ours. I'm not all so sure, Sans.” When he looked tense again, Toriel frowned, “Why? What is going on? What’s wrong with Papyrus?”

“Papyrus hasn’t been home.” Frisk answered quietly. “He left a note… saying he was coming here to get me, a long time ago… He never did.”

“We need to find him.” Sans breathed shortly, looking over Toriel’s room again, as if maybe it might hold some sort of clue to go off of, just in case he missed something the first time, which wasn’t likely.

Toriel’s expression fell at the thought.

Frisk’s did, too.

A few monsters had gone missing, lately. This was common news. Not many, maybe only 6 or 7. They hadn’t been found yet, but their information was on the news. Frisk remembered that the last one had been Tsunderplane, and some of the others included a Moldsmal and a pair of Temmies.

People had been looking ever since the first to disappear- the Temmies- and everyone whom had been a member of the Royal Guard had assembled under Undyne as a Missing Monster Taskforce, trying to find them or at least figure out why they were gone.

In the beginning, some had figured they’d just taken off to see the above ground world, but by the third time someone went missing at random, it was clear something was going bad.

Frisk guessed this was what news had traveled around and had been kept from them back during their stay in the hospital. They’d told each other quietly and avoided talking about it around Frisk. Of course, Frisk watched the news though, so they’d found out about it on their own sooner or later. Still, they all didn’t talk to Frisk about it as the search and the danger level were gradually increasing, as more monsters went randomly off the grid.

Maybe that’s the real reason Sans still insisted on walking Frisk home from school now that they didn’t go to the human school?

The thought made Frisk feel guilty; He should have been with Papyrus more, not spending his time walking Frisk around.

Then maybe Papyrus would be safe.

Right?

No- no, don’t assume the worst. Papyrus probably wasn’t gone like those others.

He was just off having a Papyrus adventure, he was fine.

The thought that Papyrus was suddenly missing during a time when other Monsters were vanishing…

All of them, to say the least, were tracing the same line of thought as Toriel turned stiff as a board, and Sans’ expression twisted. Frisk frowned and their fingers started to twitch, feeling a sense of dread fill them.

Not Papyrus. Please, not Papyrus. Please, let him just be on another wild Papyrus Escapade. Please don’t let him be gone like the others.

Sans was right. They need to find him. They need to find Papyrus. Now.

Yes. They _will_ find Papyrus.

Accidently, Frisk felt a save form as the determination climbed upward to its climax, but thought nothing more of it at all. They were determined to find their friend. The determination felt… oddly familiar, like déjà vu, but again, Frisk didn’t think on it.

Suddenly, they had an idea that they needed to get in contact with everyone, immediately. The overwhelming push that… also carried a sting of déjà vu, telling them to tell the others to things.

“Undyne.” Frisk said, looking to Sans and tugging on his hand. “Call Undyne.”

Sans nodded. “Right, kid… I’ll check to see if he’s with her. If not- _if not_ -” he paused and shook his skull, “If not, then she’ll help look, and she’s got the Taskforce.”

He pulled out his phone with his other hand as he let Frisk’s go and quietly walked for the door as he dialed. Frisk had a grudging feeling Papyrus wasn’t going to be with Undyne.

Frisk looked to Toriel. “Asgore.”

Toriel nodded. Asgore was the king of monsters; he was as on top of the disappearing monsters as Undyne, head of the Missing Monster Taskforce. “I’ll call him now.” She agreed; her typical distain for her ex husband was over ridden by her concern for her friends, and she started to take out her own phone.

Frisk motioned to themselves. “Gotta go to monster kid’s house.” Frisk said. He was waiting for Frisk. And he lived in the direction Toriel said Papyrus had gone. And… and… there was just… the urge to go that way. As quick as possible.

Toriel frowned, and said they definitely couldn’t go walking on their own at a time like this, especially since they needed to focus on Papyrus.

Frisk felt a little, tiny bit offended that Toriel would think Frisk wasn’t thinking about Papyrus and was thinking about the sleep over. “No; a’need to tell Monster Kid, he’s waiting. N’ he lives next to Alphys n’ Undyne. Talk to them for help.”

Toriel nodded. “You can’t go al-”

“I’ll go with Sans.” Frisk said. “We’ll search the neighborhood on our way, for signs, since pap went that way.”

Toriel nodded as the phone picked up from the dials, and held it up to her floppy ear to speak with Asgore. “Don’t leave Sans’ side.” She said quickly.

Frisk nodded back and hastily stepped outside the office and into the hall with Sans.

Sans was still on his phone and sweating bullets. Frisk grabbed his arm as they passed and continued speed walking down the hall.

He was hanging up with Undyne as they started down the sidewalks. “Kid, where are we going?”

“Monster Kids’. He loves Pap. Ask if he saw Pap during school like mom, n’ maybe they talked. Then next door, to Undyne and Alphys. Look for clues, maybe, along the way.”

“you’re a smart kid.” Sans muttered, and Frisk flinched instinctively when his eye sparked alive with blue. They felt his magic seep through the ground under their walking feet and past them, spreading like a net through concrete and dirt. It cast the pales hint of blue as it spread, up into trees and grass blades and the walls of the neighborhood houses, over every stone and building.

Sans ignored Frisk’s flinch and the wide cast circle followed them like a spotlight, his eye maintaining a steady blue color edged with sparks of orange, the other socket half closed. His blue eye floated to look at Frisk, cautious of their tenseness at the presence of his magic.

When Frisk let themselves calm down, his eye turned back to look ahead of them again as they continued walking, and continued to scan in search of anything that may be useful in their quest.

Frisk was cautiously examining a vague blue tint on their free hand from the effects of the magic about 30 minutes into their walk, when Sans broke their course forward and veered off pointedly toward an empty space between a pair of houses.

Monster Kid, and Alphys and Undyne’s houses were just around the corner up ahead as Sans brought them up to a pair of trees and a couple of bushes right near the sidewalk, dragging Frisk with him.

Frisk let go of his hand and hurried toward them when a bright red peeked through the leaves of a bush. Something about it felt… oddly familiar. And it already filled them with dread. Something like the words ‘too late’ flitted past their spectrum of consciousness that briefly threw them off before Frisk crouched down and reached into the depths of the under bushes.

Scrabbling to pull it out from the grasp of branches, Frisk could have recognized it as Monster Kids’ bright red school bag even without the sharpied ‘M K’ on its single strap. It was rough and dirty and the strap was torn, and from the foot print it looked like it’s been kicked by someone wearing boots under the bushes; i.e. not Kid himself.

Frisk scrabbled under the low bushes further and found the stripped blue bag he’d taken before leaving the school grounds, Frisk’s bag undoubtedly. There was something else, too, and as Frisk scrabbled onto the ground and kicked their feet to push into the bushes, struggling to fit themselves under the low bearing, and kind of sharp scraping branches that tugged at their yellow-orange stripped sweater, Sans knelt onto his knees and started looking over Kid’s bag.

Frisk stilled once they were in and under. Their hands stopped reaching, almost within grasp of the object theyd been desperate to reach under that invisible urge and push. Within grasp but hands freezing and steadily quivering just on either side of it.

Amongst torn fibers that Frisk recognized from Monster Kid’s thick yellow cloths caught in the branches… Frisk’s shaking hand reached and lightly brushed a torn scrap of a new color. Bright orange bordering on red.

They pulled it off the splintered branch it was caught on with excessively gentle movements, cupping the scrap in their palms.

It felt the same as that signature scarf when Papyrus had loaned it to them a couple days ago when they’d gotten caught out in the new snow. And it was that same bright color as the last time Frisk had seen it around his neck the day before. Frisk imagined it probably held the lingering smell of spaghetti. Holding it in their hands, Frisk’s panic died, and just beyond their mental grasp something was screaming at them. Something so familiar and so nagging that it was frustrating, like not being able to remember something important but not knowing what you were trying to remember in the first place.

“Kiddo? Find anything else? There’s not much here- we need to move fast, and find out if the Kid’s made it home or what happened here-”

He didn’t get a response and cut himself off when he noticed that the leaves of the bush were shaking with Frisk’s trembling, and Frisk wasn’t moving at all anymore, clutching the small scrap tight to their chest and looking around the branches with wide eyes for anything, anything that would tell them what had happened and what they needed to remember and where their friends were and- and-

Suddenly two cold bony hands clicked around Frisk’s ankles and with a long pull, Frisk had been pulled free of the branches along the dirt.

Frisk was looking up, still as a stone, at Sans, who crouched and peered down at them. “Kiddo?”

Frisk sat up stiffly, and their hands tightened at the cloth they held to their chest. After a second, Frisk looked to Sans, slowly.

He looked concerned, but Frisk could see his fear and dread filling him thickly with every count of their own loud heartbeat. For a second, Frisk had the bizarre feeling that Sans was feeling it, too- déjà vu. That he could already feel what was happening around him. Just like them.

Slowly, Frisk reached out their hands toward him.

Sans’ small white eyes watched and followed their every movement, and he belatedly brought his own white-boned hands up under theirs, like he almost knew what it was, like he didn’t want to know, like he didn’t want to prove his dread right.

Frisk gently let the weak scrap free, and it fluttered into Sans’ narrow fingers.

Frisk watched Sans’ expression fall, crumbling into an agony and loss that ached in Frisk’s chest until it burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, yes, the feels trip bus is boarding, but it aint drivin' yet, no sir'ree. No, no, we're at that part where everyone's cramming into the seats and its real uncomfortable cause the bus isnt started yet so there's no air conditioning or radio going; i.e. we're in the part of the story where there's too many questions, not enough answers, and all the characters are totally lost with no clue what to do.
> 
> but dont worry, dont fret; i see the bus driver (thats me) coming with their keys (chapter three). things are about to get fucked up.


	3. Extreme Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theres a thin line between "Giving Up" and "Waiting For the Moment" 
> 
> One has learned to move forward when there is no hope or visible path, with the strength of their determination.  
> One has learned that there are times when giving your total blind all is pointless, and you need something to go on before you act.
> 
> When their methods put them at odds in a situation where the consequences are revolving around the life of someone precious to them both, personalities clash, extremes become polar and and corrosion occurs.
> 
> Alternatively: Frisk and Sans Clash, morals will be tested and thin lines blur

Frisk listened to Alphys toiling away in the next room within her Robotics Lab.

Frisk listened to the sound of Undyne screaming profanity in her bed room, punching and slamming something in frustration.

Frisk listened to the sound of Sans’ rattling bones as he shook, otherwise silent, holding the only scrap left of his brother that he had left in a death grip.

Frisk listened to the sound of Mettaton talking fast over a cell phone in the kitchen, yelling occasionally.

Frisk listened to their own heartbeat, too fast to possibly be healthy and clutching Monster Kid’s bag.

When they’d gotten to the houses, they’d practically broken down Monster Kid’s home’s door, knocking wildly. Kid hadn’t made it back, and according to Monster Kid’s father, they hadn’t seen either Kid or Papyrus. Kid’s father started to panic and Frisk advised him on quick breaths to get down to the Taskforce Headquarters to see if there was anything he could help with about finding his son. He’d taken his ambassador’s advice and gone next door to get his neighbor so he wouldn’t be walking alone, also under Frisk’s recommendation as something he really shouldn’t do. Not today when two people had disappeared off this road.

Sans and Frisk wasted little more time getting to Alphys and Undyne’s recently-built home just next door, taking a ‘short cut’ and appearing practically inside their living room- scaring Alphys and Mettaton half to death where they’d been talking on the couch about Undyne’s phone call with Sans that Papyrus was missing.

Their last hope- that Papyrus in whatever situation he and Kid might have been in, had ran away and gotten here, to safety- was dashed.

Undyne showed up shortly after, having been on her way to the Taskforce HQ to report Papyrus’s possible being missing, only to turn around when Alphys called her to say that Frisk and Sans had found a sign of a struggle and were there at their home now.

Mettaton was on his phone, trying to get his network and various news stations to start a ‘keep your eyes out for a tall, loud skeleton and a small yellow armless dinosaur child’ message.

Undyne was panicking and trying to calm down so she could get back in her car and get to the HQ without crashing in a fit of road rage after hearing what Frisk and Sans had to offer.

Alphys was building something in an effort to track Papyrus’ cell phone.

Frisk was trying to think of something to feel determined about, and had a sickening feeling of déjà vu.

Sans was trying not to panic beside them on the couch, the flashes of blue light that repeatedly made Frisk twitch proving how much of a struggle he was having.

After a while, Undyne managed to leave her room without anymore cussing and minimal stomping; as she headed for the front door, Mettaton’s head popped out, and he called after her, and followed, needing the ride to the HQ as well.

Frisk slowly, gently set down Monster Kid’s bag on the ground, next to their own stripped bag, leaning it softly against the couch as if it were fragile. It was the last thing Frisk had of Monster Kid, and there was _nothing_ they could do but keep it safe for him.

Their hands shook for a moment.

Keep it safe?

Why?

For when he ‘comes back’?

What if he didn’t come back?

What if he was dead?

What if they were _all_ dead?

What if, right this minute, they were all dying?

And Frisk was just sitting here, keeping Kid’s _school bag_ safe.

Doing _nothing._

Absolutely nothing.

Frisk couldn’t just do nothing. They knew.

They _knew_.

They _knew something bad_ was happening to them.

They _knew_ there was only _so much time…_

They couldn’t just sit here, not while Papyrus and Monster Kid and Tsundereplane and Moldsmal and the tummies and the others all _suffered_.

There wasn’t _time._

_Frisk KNEW._

_There wasn’t time and they needed to DO SOMETHING._

Slowly Frisk got up from their seat- using the arm rest to find balance for a minute and stilling their shaking hands with force. They were determind to do- do _something_ , anything.

Sans remained silent and showed Zero sign of noticing Frisk move from next to him on the couch. He remained engrossed in the scrap of Papyrus’ scarf-cape.

Doing nothing.

He’s not doing anything.

Frisk cant just sit here and do nothing like him.

They worried Sans may be giving up.

He was just holding that scrap and doing nothing.

Frisk wasn’t going to give up.

Frisk quietly moved around the couch, and silently headed for and into the kitchen.

In the near silence, permeated only by the muffled sounds of Alphys using a drill and the faintest sounds of Sans’ bones clinking against one another as he shook and sat and did _nothing_ , Frisk looked around the neatly organized room, marked with a few burn scorches above the stove and divots in the counter (both most likely from Undyne’s borderline unnatural style of cooking).

Slowly, the child trudged toward the drawers, slowly checking one after another, feeling their stomach knotting in on itself, like bows being tied in their organs one after another.

Just as Frisk found what they were looking for, their hand- _forced_ not to shake despite the churning sickness in their head and the pain echoing through their stomach and the hollow, bloody and dust-laden memories of previous ‘Frisk’s- reached in and the tips of fingers brushed the handles, just about to clasp upon one when-

 “ _What the **hell** do you think you’re doing, kid._ ”

To Frisk’s credit, they didn’t jump; not even a flinch when they looked up to see the sweating, shivering Sans’ eye glowing a ferocious blue, glare in full form.

Frisk quietly looked back at the drawer, and silently withdrew a smooth, metal kitchen utility knife, black handle in a tight grip. It hurt even more and even touching it, holding it, thinking about it made them feel like turning around and throwing up in the trash can.

But they needed it.

An encasement of blue magic engulfed the drawer and slammed it closed, as well as did fit like a glove around the knife in their hand; it whipped out of Frisk’s fingers in a flash and shot out of reach.

When Frisk looked back at Sans with their blank look, their expressionless face, he looked furious and it only increased with meeting Frisk’s lack of visible emotion, and Sans had the blade held firmly in his hand, secured with a death grip.

“I'm going to find Papyrus.” Frisk answered his question.

“You can’t just take a knife and storm into the streets to find him!” Sans snapped, hard, unforgiving for this decision they’d made with too many horrific dark undertones. “You don’t even need a knife- you aren’t _fighting anyone_ , kid.”

Frisk’s glare hit him almost full force. It was almost shocking. Frisk never really glared like that; not even in any of their fights to the death in another timeline. Always expressionless, maybe grinning like a fucking freak show. Frisk didn’t glare no matter the scenario or timeline.

“Someone took Papyrus. Someone took Monster Kid.” Those words were firm. But the next ones came our slow and thick, and it sounded like and _did_ hurt Frisk to even say them, but they were true. “I can’t show them Mercy, Sans.”

Sans felt a cold kind of dread only Frisk could bring him.

Frisk walked a step toward him. “You wouldn’t give them mercy, either.”

The kid was right.

Sweat rolled down his skull and Sans looked down at the knife. His grin under intense pressure and his grip on it tight, he firmed his resolve and walked past the shorter kid, opening the drawer himself and dropping the sharp object inside, and closed it almost too hard.

“No, kid. Papyrus wouldn’t approve of us; not you doing a violence, nor me, and certainly not me letting you.” He said sharply, turning back to Frisk.

The kid looked down, hands clenching into fists. “He wouldn’t approve of us doing _nothing_ like a couple of _lazybones_.” Frisk muttered, bitter sweet pun betraying their frustration.

Sans wished he could find them using puns in their fury funny right now. “We need to calm down, and figure out how to find him. We aren’t being lazy, we aren’t doing nothing. But we can’t go forward until we solve the puzzle in front of us.”

Frisk wanted to scream in frustration, but bit their tongue.

That wasn’t _enough_.

There wasn’t time for _puzzles_.

Somewhere there were missing monsters, and they were having a _bad time_.

Frisk could- they cant sit here and do _nothing_.

Not while they had Papyrus.

Not while they were hurting him and not while they were using him and not while they---

Déjà vu punched Frisk square in the gut. _Who is ‘they’? who had Papyrus? Kidnapping? What? What is this? What were they doing? Why were they hurting him? how ere they using him? what’s happening?_

Sans was staring at Frisk in concern and confusion as this… arrayal of questions tipped Frisk back on their heels and made the world spin. Oh god, their head hadn’t hurt this bad since the last time Frisk had encountered one of the grey ‘erased’ monsters who talked about W.D. Gaster a few resets ago. The feeling of mass confusion and something they knew and didn’t know was all held back behind some gate and it was aching to burst free, swelling behind its confines and the feeling of Déjà vu increased.

“Frisk! Sans!” Alphys called at a yell, and they both heard her lab room’s door nearly thrown open.

It snapped Frisk free of the feeling, no matter how quick they tried to reach back and grab it and pull it back, to figure it out. But it was gone, and so was whatever they were feeling from it.

Sans looked up as the lingering blue in his eye vanished as his hope flared, all but running out of the kitchen to reach his old scientist friend.

Frisk looked at the walkway, the feelings of Déjà vu fading, but then looked to the drawer.

This went against everything the Frisk of this timeline was supposed to be, supposed to do, who they were as a person.

Frisk retrieved the same knife and slid it up their sleeve, before closing the drawer again silently and running to join them in Alphys’ lab.

There wouldn’t be Mercy when the time came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Keys in the ignition, our bus is on. Soon well' be pullin' out of the parking lot!


	4. We Need Speed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the situation is intense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no show tunes on this feels trip, no sire'ree, just tension and anxiety, and Sans and Frisk bein fuckin dare devils on the open road.

The blip on Alphys’ screen was moving; glowing as it traveled over the digital screen at high speed, or so it translated according to the scale of the digital map.

She’d rigged a tracker that followed the signal of Papyrus’ phone, and according to the orange blip moving slowly on the large green computerized map that was Ebott Mountain, Papyrus was moving quite fast in the material world.

While Alphys had been a talented inventor and engineer in the underground, access to various human technologies such as more advanced computers and orbiting satellites made her particularly capable; Frisk had gotten Alphys set as the Official Head of Monster Science during their ambassador works a long time ago, almost a week after immerging from underground, so Alphys’ quick speeds today were extra enhanced through all her available connections to such human technology. Frisk found themselves so very thankful their shy reptilian friend was so good at what she does; good enough to cook up coordinates and track Papyrus in a matter of 30 minutes of being told Papyrus had disappeared.

He was already beyond the city’s outskirts, already left the official town itself. Which was bad. Sans had explored most every short cut in the city and on the mountain of Ebott by now, but not quite the woods around it and beyond their monster city yet. He could get anywhere at any time in Ebott Mountain and Mt Ebott, but beyond it, he had no idea where the shortcuts opened, where the quick paths lead, and there wasn’t any way to even see them from such a distance.

In short, they were ‘grounded’ as any other human or monster, and teleporting to catch up to the blip on such a fast moving highway… out of the question.

If they were still in the city, then Sans could have just taken a short cut and gotten there, and maybe could have gotten to his brother- and if they were still together, gotten monster kid too. Could have saved them if they needed it or maybe just found them and knew they were okay if they were just lost and not really ‘kidnapped’.

Frisk knew they were, though. They’d been taken.

But if they were still in the city, they could have gotten to them by now. Could have done _something._

It would have been something.

But they were two far already.

They had nothing.

No- not nothing.

They had coordinates. They had a location. They had a blip running along a map.

That was something.

That was a big something.

“o-oh…”

They looked at Alphys.

‘ _Oh._ ’

‘ _Oh._ ’ wasn’t good.

“This- it- his battery… I can- can only track his phone while it’s on… but the battery…” a second screen displaying some stats on his phone indicating various things meaning a lot of things, most of which Frisk didn’t understand but Alphys and probably Sans too could read easily, sat beside the screen with the blinking light that was Papyrus’ location. Alphys pointed with a frown to the 34% that apparently applied to Papyrus’ phones’ battery life.

“34- 34 is good.” Frisk wheezed. 34 on Frisk’s phone normally meant a good hour of battery life when they were still using it. And Papyrus wasn’t using his, they could see that Papyrus wasn’t using his phone at all through little things on the data board- his screen was off and his phone was inactive, two things Frisk could understand out of all the jargon- that meant the battery should last longer, right?

“But- but I'm using P-Papyrus’ phone signal to- to send the information and location to us. It’s constantly streaming us information. It’ll drain his battery… fast.” As she spoke, 34% dropped to 33%, and Frisk’s expression fell.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Familiarity. The news was a disappointment, but it didn’t feel like a new thing to them. They’d known it already. No, they hadn’t. But yes, they had.

Suddenly an idea. An idea that felt weird, like they’d already been through this problem and were suddenly remembering what to do. The feeling you get in a math test at school when you suddenly remember how to solve the math problem with the method from class. The same feeling Frisk had had when they’d been at Toriel’s office and knew that they and Sans needed to _go_ , to get to Alphys and Undyne’s.

“Sans-” Frisk turned sharply to their friend. He turned his head, “They- they have to be in a car going that fast- you, you, you” with every time they said you, it was strong and more assured despite confusion lingering in Frisk’s eyes, and with each you, they pointed at Sans and felt determination well up with each point. “You, get your motorcycle. As fast as you can. Fast, need to catch up. Get your motorcycle. Get it, get it, get it and come back, outside the door here, go, get it!”

Frisk frantically shoved his arm like to get him through a door, not sparing time to explain everything else blooming in their head, exploding forth like long buried ideas when they were only emerging now, shoving him to get him to go. Confused, he was gone as soon as Frisk blinked.

“Alphys- get your phone, get your phone- hurry up, hurry up, get your phone, and call me!” Frisk said, beyond breathless, running out of the room and grabbing their school bag from beside Kids.

Frisk ran down the stairs and ignored Alphys’ squeak as she scrambled to get her own phone, and Frisk ran out the front door; not even a heart beat passed between the door opening and the sound of Sans bike running was suddenly present just as he appeared on the road.

Frisk didn’t bother with the helmet, like normal, fishing their phone from their back pack (subtly slipping the knife from their sleeve into it so they didn’t drop it on the drive), before jumping on behind him and throwing their bag on their back, secured with the straps around their shoulders.

“Go- go- go, fast, short cuts, as close as you can get to them!” Frisk ushered him as he started forward, building speed up as quickly as he could get, as Frisk’s phone started to ring.

Frisk answered it, “Alphys- Alphys, don’t hang up, stay on this line, and do the thing you did with pap; get our blip on the screen. Use Sans’ phone, put him on the screen, hack him or whatever you’re doing, get him on the screen.” Frisk gritted as they kept one arm around Sans, fingers tight in his shirt and the other hand death gripping the phone to not drop it.

The sudden wash of magic and the sickening feeling of going so fast through a shortcut made Frisk’s grips tighten and they pressed their face into the back of Sans’ ribcage. And then a second time, and then a third; motorcycle maintaining high speed and even increasing, dodging cars and other things here and there with a tight precision as he drove into short cut after short cut.

“Out of short cuts.” Sans called over near deafening wind speeds; Frisk only barely heard him as they raced on the edge of a road full of traffic, just outside the lane lines, practically half doubling the speed of the many cars along the long, straight highway that ran past MT Ebott and right past the city of Ebott Mountain. Glancing back once, they saw the border sign to Ebott Mountain City shrinking as they rapidly gained more distance.

“Hold, _Tight_.” Frisk warned him, doing so themselves.

Just before Frisk could hit the button, the phone still held to their ear sounded with a vaguely hard to hear voice; Alphys; “Y-you’re on my screen! You’re on the same road, but you’re a long ways behind!”

“tell us when we’re close!” Frisk had to almost scream into it to make sure they were heard, setting the phone to its highest volume and on speaker.

Frisk pulled the phone away from their ear, secured it to the locks on their bag and hit the button for full-speed setting.

The automatic noise of the jetpack mode as the phone unfolded jets sounded and Frisk locked both their arms around Sans tight in preparation. Sans had heard the sound enough times and leaned forward, readying himself.

The ignition blast was a shock and sent them racing at a wicked speed down the road; the sounds of startled cars honking was distant as by the time the cyclist duo were registered, they were going so fast that they were already far ahead by the time the startled driver could honk.

Frisk fished Sans phone out of his jacket pocket, and through the wind shear held on to it for life itself as they opened camera function to video, and started recording.

“You-you’ll be there in 5- 4- 3- 2-”

Frisk reached back and flipped the jetpack off. The speed of the motorcycle lost its height steadily but surely when Alphys started to count.

Frisk held the camera up, recording every passing car in those seconds.

“I- IM IN YOUR PHONE- SAN’S PHONE, I MEAN!” Alphys’ gasp replaced the ‘1’. “I SEE YOU’RE RECORDING CAMERA- AND YOU WENT PAST P-PAPYRUS- CAN- CAN YOU GO SLOWER? SLOW DOWN!”

Sans was doing something up ahead, but from the slow rate of… well, slowing, Frisk had to assume slowing a motorcycle couldn’t be as easy a task as just hitting the break.

“Right there, keep that speed.” Alphys’ voice called, and Sans nodded to himself as if Alphys could see him, and continued to maintain their speed.

“Okay, that’s good, that’s good, you’re going the same speed as Papyrus- just- just point your recording behind you…”

Holding on to Sans for fear of slipping off the seat- the rushing ground under the tires and the numbed feeling still lingering from using the shortcuts so fast were particularly dizzying- Frisk pressed themselves as close to Sans as possible, waist and neck craning to look backward as Frisk twisted their arm to aim the phone camera backward toward the cars zooming at what seemed to be steadily increasing to their speed.

No, the other cars weren’t speeding up, the motorcycle was slowing to even pace with the cars. Frisk felt one of sans’ hands reach back and take a firm grip on Frisk’s sweater, not feeling all too good with Frisk’s risky position at high speeds. It was fine if they slowed a little; after all, Alphys said they’d passed Papyrus already.

“okay- okay- according to this position and the video-” Alphys’ voice was drowned out by a honking car, but a few moments passed and the phone’s momentary silence resounded again, “that one- that- that van- the white van with the little crack in the left of the windshield- I- that-that’s it, I know it, that’s it, that’s papyrus!”

The second Frisk saw it, they felt the return of that nauseating Déjà vu.

Sans shifted. He suddenly had an ominous air to him.

“Put the phones away, frisk, and hold on.”

They turned their head toward Sans, “license plate.” Frisk wheezed on a throat a little sore from yelling over the winds and roar of the bike. They’d blurted it out without even thinking. License plate? They hadn’t even thought about the license plate at any point. What did the plate matter when the van was right there? But as Frisk said it, they felt it; they felt that, yes, they _needed_ that plate. It was _important_. They _knew_ it.

Sans was grinding his teeth, Frisk could tell from the set of his jaw. Just getting the license plate wasn’t what he had planned. From the sparks and wisps of blue smoke that had started to rise, whipped back by the speed of the air, whatever he had been ready to do was probably magic related and would be quite violent. That van probably would have been in bits by the end.

But then Frisk saw something else spark, metaphorically, in his gaze; a sense of confusion and dread. Frisk could tell yet again, it was like he was feeling something, like he knew something too.

He gave in to the license plate idea.

When Sans lowered at his handles, Frisk held tighter, and Sans veered their ride sharply into traffic.

Frisk yelped as they dodged between two cars and into a mid lane, driving on top of the orange dotted line- there were 3 care lanes, putting them in the isle between the two lines of cars most to the right. The target van was at the most left lane.

San’s speed slowed and steadily, they came level with the van.

Frisk aimed Sans’ phones’ camera at the windshield and windows of the front seat as they slowed toward it, trying to get the best shots of the face, but tinted windows proved it futile.

Sans continued to let his pace drop until the van was just ahead, and then matched the traffic flow once again. Dodging hard between another lane of cars with a sharp left, and another squeak of fright from Frisk, and they were really starting to wish they had that helmet on, after all.

No less, Sans pulled back up toward the van from behind, and Frisked leaned just far enough to the side around him to get those license plate digits in full shot of the recording camera. Alphys made some sort of sound across the phone line and started scrambling; probably copying them down, Sans’ hand coming back to clasp Frisk again and keep them steady, still real uncomfortable with them in such a position at their current speed.

“Now we follow.” Frisk said roughly. “Stay at a distance.”

“Wh- Kid, my brother’s in there-” Sans sounded incredulous, like Frisk had just told him to let them get away.

“Find the others, too.” Frisk shouted back. “Other monsters missing! Save em ‘nd find out why they’re taking pap and others!”

Alphys said something like ‘”I got the plate” and Frisk leaned back into the skeleton as the clicked off his phone’s video camera. Sans’ hand retreated back to the steering.

“Kid.” Sans voice was low. “Kid. He’s my brother. I can’t- I can’t.”

The engine revved and the speed got higher, bringing them up to the van’s side. Sans was about to do whatever he had plans to do, magic streaming in smoke from the side of his skull as he kept his gaze forward.

“Sans- _please_ , we need to find them all. Pap’ll be fine, we know he will! But- but-”

Frisk _knew_. They _knew_ they couldn’t let him.

“Kid, my brother comes _first_.” He said it almost like a threat.

“Papyrus wouldn’t approve of us sacrificing them all to get him sooner!” Frisk growled, shifting on the bike and sliding Sans' phone back into his own pocket as they did.

Sans felt them moving and slowed, reaching back again, before returning to the speed to keep at the van’s side. He didn’t grab them, though; they’d shifted backward and avoided his fingers, swinging one leg up onto the seat, their own had propped on Sans’ shoulder for balance.

“Kid- kid- what are you- shit-” he cut himself off as Frisk stood wobbly on the back of his seat, doing his utmost not to swerve even the slightest, his hand shooting back forward to hold the steering absolutely perfect. Cars started honking like crazy; but they were in the van’s blind spot, so if the driver was looking, they saw nothing. “Kid, what the fu- _sit down_!”

Frisk reached up and grabbed the bars on top of the van, and Sans freaked; he started swearing left and right and steadied his speed as perfect with the other vehicle as he could manage, less he tear the kids arms off if he slowed or something.

Frisk didn’t know what the hell they were doing. They felt something pushing them to keep doing it, though. They knew they had to, they knew they needed to, they _knew_.

Frisk lifted off the bike all together, and scrambled up the  side of the van- struggling not to kick at its white painted sides and alert those inside- and heard Sans’ curses increase in volume as well as Alphys’ concerned stutters trying to figure out why Sans sounded like a sailor and what on earth was happening.

Frisk rolled onto their back when they had pulled onto the top all the way, staring with terrified eyes at the orange red sky, already darkening to night, knuckles turned white from the grip on the bars on the van. Their hands shook wildly for a second before Frisk refused to let them.

After a second of listening to Sans continue to curse bellow them on the ground, Frisk looked over the side to see him shifting back and forth between glances at the road ahead and staring with wide eye sockets, glowing eyes in their centers, up at them; one particularly on _fire_ with blue. Sans may be an incredible (and reckless) driver on that thing, but the magic he was trying to conjure to grab frisk and drag them back to the seat on his bike couldn’t keep up with the current speeds they were both at.

“FOLLOW US.” Frisk shouted at him, forcing themselves to lose the fear and relief that they’d managed to do that climb up the side of a moving vehicle without falling. They replaced it with the welling determination and a warning look. “I won’t let anything happen to pap! We’ll find the others! Call Alphys again and get us some help. She can track my phone, the battery’s full! It’ll be okay, Sans!”

With Frisk on top, Sans’ options were limited. If he forced the driver to swerve off road or tried to crash the van itself, the kid would get hurt. If he stayed so close to the van like he was right now, he’d be spotted by the driver and put the kid in danger of discovery.

Sans didn’t have a choice, and the icy glare he gave the kid made sure they knew how absolutely not okay this was as his speed steadily dropped off to get some distance before he pulled into the line of traffic to join the flow; keeping as far as possible while still able to keep his eye socket on the van carrying his brother and the kid attached to it.

Frisk flinched at that look. When this was all said and done, Frisk was _so_ grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the bus is pulling up into speed on the road, gettin' this show on the road with a chase scene, what a day.
> 
> V R O O M V R O O M M O T H A H F U C K A H


	5. Crumble and Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world crumbles in darkness when the mind collapses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can see from the comments that everyone is suddenly looking at the title, and kidnapped Papyrus, and going OH SHIT OH NO 
> 
> I am sorry, friends.

It was slowly that the van pulled to a stop, tired grinding rubber over asphalt and dirty snow slush with a dull noise as the engine dyed down. It felt like an unholy type of silence and stillness, having been a constant noise, and the only noise period, during the long drive through the night.

Frisk had clutched for dear life to the bars on top used to tie things down during long rides- certainly not meant for keeping small 12 year olds on its roof for long drives, but it seemed to serve that purpose just as well.

Frisk’d been half afraid that on every turn they’d fly off, or at every red light and bright red stop sign they’d go flying off the front and get run over. As a result, they’d been holding those bars so tight that, not when the vehicle stopped, their hands were removed but were frozen, sore, in a grip-like position and numb.

They’d lost sight of Sans and his bike at some point, but after hanging up on Alphys during the ride to conserve battery (she’d said herself that the program or whatever she was doing drained battery fast, and Frisk in no way wanted their battery dead while stuck in ‘enemy territory’), Frisk had no way to contact Sans without using up battery life or find out if he was even still here.

What if he’d lost sight of the van?

What if he was miles from here and Frisk was entirely alone on top of the van of some random kidnappers?

What if Sans was lost in this random human city Frisk didn’t even recognize?

What if he had crashed his bike somewhere?

What if something happened to him?

What if he got kidnapped too?

Maybe some of these worries were far fetch, but as Frisk’s buzzing mind hit the ground running with fear and paranoia in the sudden silence, the worst came to mind.

Sure, if Frisk thought about it hard enough, they’d realize there was no real probable way anyone could make Sans go somewhere he didn’t want to; I mean, he was a terrifying magic skeleton with a ridiculous anger issue who was currently riding full force on that anger as his brother had just been kidnapped.

Who in their right mind would try to A, go anywhere near him, B, try to catch him, and C, actually succeed in capturing him?

But Frisk wasn’t thinking hard on it anymore, that rampant fear taking back seat as the sound of the driver side door opened. A new paranoia sprang forth; the fearing of being spotted, and captured themself. It vaguely reminded Frisk of hiding in Waterfall from Undyne.

But Frisk had no desire with to make friends in this situation, as they had done with the fish woman.

This was very different.

They wouldn’t offer mercy so easily if discovered and had to fight, and fleeing was no option as long as they had Papyrus. Never.

So Frisk couldn’t be spotted.

Or else.

The van had driven for a long time; at least an hour and a half after Frisk had hitched their ride. After a while, which was terrifying, on the full speed highway the van had taken an exit and entered a city of sky-scraping buildings.

The engine finally cut off when the van pulled up at the back of one of those particular sky scrapers, right up next to it in a small parking lot, private to the building. A gate had opened and closed in front and behind them, at the pause when the van had punched in a security code at a podium like thing. Frisk wanted to look to see the code, but had been too worried about being spotted to look over the edge. There was a single street light casting bright artificial feeling orange light across the street beyond the gate; rather than the comfort a light could offer when it was dark at night, it made everything feel worse and more creepy, like a bad TV show right before some guy gets mugged.

Frisk pressed themselves as tight as they could, as small as they could be, against the ice cold metal roof of the van as the driver’s door opened. They felt it shake the car as whoever it was slammed it closed, and soon after- too soon for it to have been the driver opening them- the doors to the back of the van flung open.

So there had to be at least two of them, right?

They had to be tough enough to take Papyrus, right?

Sans wasn’t anywhere near, right?

Frisk’s blood was like ice sludge and was pumping with a heart beat so loud, it was hard to believe that the strangers couldn’t hear it. Frisk’s small hands, mostly concealed in the sleeves of their sweater, tightened—one around the handle of their retrieved stolen blade.

They tried to hold their breath for fear that they may start hyperventilating and would be heard, thusly exposed and caught by who even knew, trying to find a semblance of calm somewhere in the terrifying moment. Something about it felt painfully familiar, not that Frisk could put their finger on it, of course.

A sudden grunt from the direction of the back doors.

“Fuck, man, be careful.”

“Weighs more than you’d think, Jay.”

“Well don’t drop it, you idiot. You’ll break it. We don’t get nothing from the dust.”

The very top of a blonde head of hair peaked into view, and then a body was hoisted up briefly into Frisk’s view- yellow, garmented in a striped no-sleeve sweater, and about Frisk’s size. Then it sank out of sight onto whoever it was’ shoulder.

The blonde head bobbed with the weight and made another grunt.

Frisk almost moved. Almost, with all the intention to in the above ground, jumped down from the van. Almost attacked him, almost jumped him, almost would have swung their knife for the sake of Kid.

But suddenly the door of the building opened with a loud, computerized _ding_ as it electronically swung open. Frisk tensed harder, struggling not to make any noise or even move as the sounds of many, many footsteps followed.

From the sound, at least 5. Probably more. So there were at _least_ 7 people. Minimum. They joined the others at the end of the van.

Oh god.

What should they do, what should they do?

What happened if they spotted Frisk?

What should Frisk do?

Oh god- the guy with Monster Kid was walking past them- into the building- No, no, no, nono nonononono.

How would they get him out?

Oh god, how could they stop him?

Panicking. Only muffled through Frisk’s many years of learning to shut themselves out, pulling on that no-expression face, body almost limp and breathing too silent and calm to possibly be healthy in such a deadly situation when they were so badly freaking out.

But definitely panicking, really really freaking out, even if they were frozen still.

A silent mantra playing over and over and over and over and over and over in their mind:

_It’s okay, you can fight, it’s okay, you can fight, it’s okay, you can fight, it’s okay, you can fight_

Any other situation- no, Frisk wouldn’t be clutching their knife like a vice and, no, they wouldn’t try to get comfort out of the thought that they were strong and could and would fight.

But they had Frisk’s friend, and family. They were dangerous. They didn’t even refer to Frisk’s friends as people- they called Monster Kid _it_. They referred to his dust like it was nothing, like it wouldn’t be Monster Kid’s dead body, like it wasn’t the equivalent to a corpse.

Would they even care, dust or corpse?

Panic seeped into something more, like fuel.

The knife wielding hand clenched and twitched.

And then, there was the sound of bones rattling.

“For a bag of bones, this thing sure is heavy.”

“Hey- watch where your bumping it, hell knows how easy this thing could crumble.”

An undeniable feeling of pure, pure resentment and a willingness to fight that hadn’t been met since Frisk boycotted mercy and attacked that kid, Kevin. Maybe even stronger.

Frisk remained fixed and still, battling their own anger, battling the itching desire to jump down to Papyrus’ defense and _slash_. _Slash, slash, slash, feel blood on their hand and over the snow_.

Pacifist be dammed, they were _furious_.

Frisk managed, struggling under their emotionless mask internally, not to attack, and it hurt.

It hurt, listening as they shuffled around, slammed the van closed, and carried him. Took him. Took Papyrus. Took him away. Inside.

The door locked loudly with an electronic sounding click, and Frisk was so angry and so frustrated and so fucking… sad.

They took them. Took them away.

Frisk sat in silence for a long time, afraid to move in case someone was still outside.

And then, the approaching sounds of a motor.

It hummed and drew closer and closer and closer, and from their still position, Frisk saw the blue bike creep into sight, crawling along the road at a slow speed. Skeleton in seat, magic glowing in one eye as he searched avidly, looking for maybe Frisk, or the van, or something.

Frisk sat up slowly, and as he drew down the road, took hold of their knife. Using it’s reflective metal, and the angle from the ugly fabricated orange light from the street light, flashed light at Sans trying to get his attention.

After a few tries, the skeleton’s spine straightened and his head snapped toward the source. His bike died as soon as he pulled onto the side of the road. He was suddenly at Frisk’s side, standing on top of the van, the very second the motor was off and the kickstand down.

“Where- Why do you have that- where’s Pap and Kid- You are in so much-” Sans floundered for words, sweating intensely, and pulled Frisk up to their feet by lifting them by the shoulders. He was torn for reaching and taking the knife, tearing apart the van, and doing more shouting, and possibly grabbing them in a hug.

Boy, was he freaked.

“7- 7 guys- they- pap- kid- inside- I don’t- I didn’t know… What to do…” Frisk’s hands shook. “Should have tried, but… 7… and too angry… wanted to fight… shouldn’t fight?”

Frisk was confused and angry and wanted to storm the castle and get back their friends, but didn’t want to let themselves start dicing people up.

And god knew where their friends were, now.

How long since the door had locked until Sans showed up?

How long had Frisked just _laid_ there after letting them take Pap and Kid?

How many floors were in this building?

Where on earth in it could they be in there?

How many rooms?

How many of the missing monsters were even here?

What was going to happen to them?

No, no, Frisk needed to get them. Now. Now, now, now.

Frisk started to scramble down the side of the van, looking back at Sans, “Come on- come on- let’s get them, come on!”

“Kid- kid, kid- stop- you can’t just-” Sans wanted to go, too. But he knew it was a bad idea. There were bound to be more than just _7_ enemies inside. “How on earth did you get out of the underground if you just run into the guys who’ll kill you?”

Sans jumped down beside them and grabbed the kid’s arm, dragging Frisk around the van to get out of view of the door.

Frisk turned to him as they shook their arm free of his grasp, their anger showing through steadily like dark waters seeping up through a cloth. It clearly unsettled Sans, whom wasn’t expecting it- his eye hadn’t stopped glowing yet since Frisk had spotted him, but the reveal of Frisk’s expression made him freeze and the intensity of the color increased. Frisk pointedly ignored it and clenched their hands tight, one still clasped to their weapon, unflinching.

“You- you were the one who said we had to- we need to go get Papyrus, and Monster Kid, and everyone! You were gunna knock the van over to get just Papyrus! We- Sans we’re _right here_ , they are all _right there, inside!_ You were the one! We have to do what you said and go get them _now_!”

Sans lifts his hands slowly and was watching them with a deadly precision, sweat building on the surface of his skull. “Kid, kid. seriously, put down the knife, and calm down. You need to chill.”

Frisked looked from him down to their knife wielding hand, still slack at their side even if tense and poised a little too professionally in their grip, and looked back up at him with increased fury and frustration.

“That’s _it_? Your worried about _that_ right now? You should be worried about _them, that’s where they all are, Sans- we- we- we need- we need to- to- to- need to-_ ” Desperate and frantic hands waved into the air, both of them, and Sans backed up several steps when the knife waved with them.

Frisk threw it on the ground all of the sudden with all the force they could muster and it clattered over the asphalt. Their fingers re-clenched when it was out of their grasp, and just as sudden, Frisk’s anger failed and they pressed their palms to their eyes, and the abrupt shaking that marked the last few anxiety attacks was immediately present.

“Y-You’re staring at me- at- at- like I'm- like I’m crazy! You-you-you-your so- so focused- on- on the- the- the stupid- _stupid-_ kn-kn-knife that you- you won’t even _listen_ \- they-the- they’re right there, Sans- _right there_ , they were _right there, they were right- right there, Sans, I didn’t stop them, I, I- I- they- they had- they had pap and I- I- I let them take him inside- there were so many- I let them- they were right there, kid and pap, Sans, and you won’t help me- and- and-_ ”

There was no build like the last few times Frisk started shaking, no, it was sudden and violent and Frisk couldn’t constrict them anymore under their mask with just their determination. In fact, after a couple seconds, they couldn’t even stand anymore, and dropped to their knees. They ached from impact with broken and cracked, aged asphalt, and Frisk’s hands came forward to hold them up, their whole body shaking so bad that it felt like the whole world was vibrating underneath their palms, burning from the grit of the worn parking lot bits stabbing their skin.

Frisk’s small body convulsed, and the most Frisk could do was keep themselves from vomiting, but couldn’t stop themselves from collapsing with weak, shuddering limbs, the pace of their breathing growing wild.

Sans looked positively terrified, immediately at their side and dropping to his knees. His skeleton hands hovered just above them and he searched over their body, in search of an explanation for what was happening or what to do or what was causing this.

“F-Frisk- what the hell-”

The world collapsed in blackness as Frisk lost themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels trip is running full speed up a mountain at this point; cant wait until we start going DOWN the mountain in the next chapter


	6. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death and Anxiety go hand in hand. the thought of death gives us our Anxiety, while our Anxiety bring us our death. To the one who drowns frequently in their own depression, comes near death and life, and fear and anxiety. In the mind of the man who thinks only in negativity, Anxiety is the black, sweet sleep that claims his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on the topic of writing Anxiety.  
> Its. H A R D.
> 
> Also i got a few questions about the kids calling Papyrus 'retarded' back in the last book that were like "but maybe pap COULD be". but no, Paps' not, not really, not at all. He lacks a lot of the proper traits.  
> On another note entirely, i DO Headcanon- both in my stories and in general- as an Autistic. He hold a lot of the traits and i recognize them as the same ones a couple of my autistic friends have. Anyway, if you LOOK for it, you'll see a couple traits in Papyrus' speech patters, his mannerisms, and even simple things like the way he always wears the battle body or his constant busyment with his hobbies- spaghetti and puzzles- and his desire for strict routine (down to reading the same fluffy bunny story and cooking the same food over and over and over again on repitition) and all of it can translate to Autism. i even personally imagine he's a heavy stimmer, between his gloves and his scarf cape, but thats more of a personal headcanon with no backup.   
> There's the theory Sans could be autistic too, using jokes as verbal stimming and what not, but i dont know much about it nor do i think its as accurate as Papyrus' Autistic possibility and lean more towards Sans just using jokes to relieve his own anxiety and having some form of depression.

When Frisk’s vision is turning back on, when their senses are coming back, when they don’t feel like they’re under open oceans of suffocating black tar that was losing consciousness, when they don’t feel like their being crushed under a million pounds of pressure on every side, ever cell-

The first thing they see is Sans; he’s blindingly bleach white, immediate contrast to the blackness as it faded from their vision.

He looks terrified.

He’s very close, and his eye sockets are so round, you think he must have watched them try to climb up the side of a kidnapper’s van on the highway again. His eyes are so small in the round sockets, half the tips of needles glowing white against the black voids of no light, like they were far away in an endless distance. He’s sweating and it’s a ridiculous amount, and although he’s always white as bone, there’s a sickly achiness grey to it.

As soon as Frisk sees Sans, the gears in their had turn, and memories flood back.

They’re in an unknown town of humans. The bad guys took Papyrus and Monster Kid, and they most likely have the other monsters, too. Frisk climbed on top of the Van. Frisk had taken a knife from Alphys and Undyne’s Kitchen. Frisk had insighted a high speed chase scene up a highway. Papyrus’ phone battery was most certainly dead by now. Toriel was probably freaking out somewhere. It was night time, and the orange light was artificial and lacked warmth like the fire magic torches that lit the denser areas of Ebott Mountain’s developing monster city.

With the memories came crashing down the return of pressure that had almost left in their waking. It hurt. The brief respite of nothingness had possibly worsened the return blow. Frisk was a murderous child. Frisk was a bad child. Frisk was a useless child. Frisk has killed every single person in their family before. Frisk has failed to save Asriel. Frisk has hospitalized a child. Frisk has been abandoned. Frisk has caused untold amounts of psychological damage to the skeleton in front of them with their resets. Frisk let them take Papyrus and Monster Kid into that building. Frisk has failed.

With the pressure resumed the hate. Hate themselves- useless, useless, useless. A bad child, a useless child, a disgrace, a burden, a failure, an atrocity. Hate in others- They took Monster Kid. They took Papyrus. There should be no mercy. No one is allowed to hurt Frisk’s family. Not these kidnappers. Not those kids who insulted Frisks mother. No one. No one. No one.

With the hate, further pain, further pressure, because they shouldn’t _hate_ so much and now they felt guilty- and then they hated _themselves_ even _more_ for feeling guilty about hating the ones who hurt their family.

A repeating cycle that threatened to overrun Frisk again with the thickness of unconsciousness, and the only thing they could see, Sans, he looked even worse and he was struggling to do- what was he doing?- and they could feel a few beads of sweat, ice cold, fall off them. They were so called on hot skin, they burned. They grounded Frisk again, resistance against the blackness, if only for a moment longer.

Then they were plummeting back into it, drowning- fighting- _fighting_ him, struggling against him, but not, they weren’t, because they couldn’t do anything but struggle to breathe and _hate_ themselves and those _bastards_ who had taken their friends.

Their chest hurt.

They couldn’t breathe, they weren’t _breathing_.

Sans expression darkened and his look of fear was reinforced.

Frisk heard a ringing in their ears before, that was gone as blackness edged at their vision again, and felt their arms being held forcefully to their sides, and then couldn’t feel that, either.

Vision darkened.

Almost black.

_Stop it, stop it, stop it, why cant I breathe- I'm breathing I can feel it- I'm breathing- too much breathing- stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it why does it hurt why am I breathing so fast why cant I see where am I where am I whats wrong with him why does he look so scared who is he stop it stop it stop it stop stop stop stop stop stop sTop stOP sTOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP PEASE WHY DOES IT HURT I CANT FEEL IT IT HURTS THERES NOTHING BUT IT HURTS STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP_

Something pressed to their forehead.

Weirdly, they felt it, and it burned, _so cold_.

Blackness faded from vision as Frisk strained to focus for it, for the icy sensation.

Directly in front of them, the distant lights of his eyes, surrounded in blackness. Nothing to see but the lights in his eyes. Just his eyes. His eyes. Sans’ eyes. He’s Sans. Those are his eyes. Sans. Sans’ eyes.

He’s still scared and he’s freaked out, too, and the forehead of his skull is rested against theirs, his sweat is cold and it’s like literal ice on their own overheating face.

Those are his eyes.

Feeling returns again, they feel pain.

Not just the suffocating pain, but the tight hold on their arms, keeping them pinned against the dirt and snow and the hard parking lot ground. Their head hurts, too, and their chest. Their still breathing too fast but they feel like they should breathe faster, they need air, their lungs ache, breathe faster, faster faster faster _faster--_

His eyes. Just his eyes. All they see is the tiny lights. Smooth round dots, bright white, Sans’ eyes.

The ringing comes back and Frisk realizes it’s not a ringing. It’s just their hearing working- and they hear themselves. They’re screaming. Why are they screaming? That’s silly. Stop screaming.

And just like that, the ringing is gone, but they can still hear. They’ve just stopped screaming, and now their throat hurts.

Their throat hurts. Their head, their throat, their eyes burn too- they notice they’re also crying- their stomach hurts, their chest hurts- it’s so tight, they can’t breathe, they can’t breathe-

And again, just his eyes, just his scared, simple eyes. White on black. Glowing. They’re actually kind of pretty. They recapture Frisks attention and drag them up from blackened tars, the lights cutting the through the darkness.

Why are their arms moving so much? Sans holds them down, but even though he’s powerful, he’s not very strong. Frisk can tell how hard he’s trying to keep them down, but they fight against him, trying to do something despite him, struggling, pulling, fighting… what are they doing? Why? They go slack, as Frisk can’t figure it out, they don’t know why their fighting Sans.

Frisk feels his grip loosen on their arms, and they are still transfixed on his eyes. Both their gazes remain locked, staring them back in the eye. Sans hands- cold bone hands, slide down their arms to their wrists, barely touching them. As Sans moves Frisk’s arms himself, he’s gentle and careful. The left one burns and Frisk doesn’t know why.

The burn scares them and they stiffen and jerk under his looser hold, both at the pain and in fear of it. Sans’ little eyes, which had started to relax, dilate again and his breathing- when did they start to hear his breathing?- hitches and his fingers tighten. But Frisk is transfixed when they see his eyes shrink, the tightness isn’t quite needed again yet, their held still by his eyes, his glowing, radiant eyes.

Slowly he moves again. Frisk tenses again at the pain, but he moves on hesitantly. He tucks their left arm on top of their chest- it’s still expanding and falling too quick to be healthy, too fast to fast fast- and then Sans eyes are their focus again, and Frisk stares at them still, watching them as they watch back without pause, and his other hand is prying something out of Frisk’s right hand.

It’s a familiar object, and Frisk recalls it as the knife. They realize they weren’t holding the handle, but the blade, in a death grip. As Sans removes it, their hand _hurts_ , burns, just like their left arm, and they tense up.

They almost come back struggling again, and Frisk all but feels Sans ready to intercept something if they try to fight him again, but it doesn’t come, because his eyes dilate again and they just watch the two shapes.

Suddenly he says something, one of his hands shaking as they press over where Frisk’s sternum should be. “Deep breath.”

Just two words. He says them so fast, Frisk almost thinks they were imagined. Fast. Fast like their breathing. Too fast. Too fast. Too fast.

Deep breath. His eyes. Small, white like the snow of snowdin, glowing like moons and stars. Those are some of Sans’ favorite things. Stars, the moons, the night sky as dark as the depths of his open eye sockets. Deep breath.

He slowly brings their hand right hand- oh, its bleeding- and tucks it next to the left arm.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He says it a few more times, and he’s searching their eyes. Frisk knows that. They know he’s searching for recognition, something that means Frisk knows what he’s saying, that they hear him.

He finds it after a couple more repeats.

Everything hurts.

He slowly gets off of them. He’d been sitting on their thighs to keep them on the ground. Now he sits on his knees beside them, and his eyes are gone when his head moves, and his calming eyes aren’t there to hold Frisk’s focus.

Sensory overload from going from just the small whites amongst the open darkness to the orange-lit dull colored high rises framing a cloudy night sky prompts the returning thunderstorm of emotions and thoughts and pain, and they don’t have his eyes to focus on.

Panic starts rising again, and their breath starts to increase toward the unhealthy end of the spectrum once more to before the deep breaths, and their arms start to jump and twitch and Frisk’s trying to sit up again but Sans pushes them down by the shoulders, and he’s talking again, “You’re okay, you're okay, Frisk, you’re okay.” And he says it, over and over and over and over, and Frisk looks up at him, and they look in his eyes. And they go slack, and they lay there, they’re fine, and they’re watching his eyes.

Suddenly Frisk knows what their looking for in his eyes- or, more accurate, only one eye.

“ - _blue_ ”

It’s almost dead and it’s not even possible to consider it a whisper. It’s too quiet, it’s more like just an exhale.

Sans covers one of his eyes with clack of his hand as bone smacks against bone, as if trying to check if his eye’s glowing and he hadn’t notice, and there’s a brief moment where Frisk sees panic increase in his other eye at the thought, and they don’t really understand that.

“No- it’s not- there’s no-” he’s stuttering as he pulls away his hand and that’s kind of weird to Frisk.

“ _Make it… blue”_

It’s even more broken as Frisk is staring in a manner that’s probably unsettling into his eyes.

He seems confused like he doesn’t know how that could possibly be a good idea, because they both know how much Frisk finds it uncomfortable when his eye is blue.

But his one eye flares with magic anyway and the other light disappears upon Frisk’s request, despite this fact.

Frisk flinches hard once, and his eye flickers and almost disappears, but the mad vibrations- how long have they been shaking and not noticing? That’s not good.- in Frisk’s arms and hands and the excessive speed of their breathing all settle.

Frisk stares and they feel it, his magic, free in flow. It reminds them of nights when they feel it pouring out from next door, and they go to his house and up to his room to check on him. It doesn’t remind them of bad times in other timelines. It reminds them of Sans. Because it’s Sans’ eyes, even if they aren’t glowing white, and it’s Sans magic, and he has used his magic for good, and he _is_ magic, that’s what he’s made of, he’s magic, it’s not just his eye, that’s him. That’s his body, and that’s his eye, and the hum of his power seeping through everything like dull electricity is _him_ … and it makes them feels safe, submerged in it, watching his hypnotizing eye glimmer.

They watch his eye glow, and they calm down.

_You’re okay. You're okay. You're okay._

Frisk slowly sits up. Their arms hurt. Their head hurts. Their throat hurts. Their chest hurts. Their stomach hurts.

But they’re okay.

They finally stop looking at his eye and look just at Sans.

He lets out a long, massive breath and his eyes both close, and they see the blue seeping from the crack between his strange bone-eye-lid and cheek disappear and his magic no longer pulses like a heartbeat in the air around them. He goes from stiff to slack and slumps against the side of the van for support, sweat in buckets running down the sides of his skull. He’s still holding the knife, and it’s stained in blood.

So is the snow, and there’s a little on the van.

Frisk looks down.

Their sweater is covered in blood. Their sleeves are sliced open from cuts. There’s blood on their face. Their head feels tender like someone had tried to rip out their hair. There lip burns and so does their tongue, both are bleeding, and there’s teeth marks on their lip and on their fingers.

Frisk knows what happened, now, while they were blacked out.

It’s not the first time.

But, it’s definitely Sans’ first time seeing it. Ever. In any timeline Frisk can remember, he’s never seen that.

Sans never really had found out just how self destructive a real panic attack from Frisk could be; he’d seen the shakes and he’d seen the screams and he’d seen the perpetually endless crying, but the actual panic attack itself… Frisk normally managed to keep under control in the presence of others. There’s one timeline a long, long time ago where Toriel has seen one of these attacks; that was the first and last time Frisk ever let themselves get that bad in front of someone. Toriel’s reaction had been terrified, and the panic attack had ended in Frisk cutting too deep. They’d bled to death and that whole timeline ended.

Frisk pushed up their left sleeve, to survey the damage.

Sans must have pounce on them pretty quick after Frisk had blacked out; there were only a few gashes. The most of the blood was coming from a wound on Frisk’s head, actually; their forehead was bleeding from what felt like a thrash against the ground as the cause.

“Come here, kid…” Sans’ voice had a soft shake to it.

Frisk shifted quietly in front of him. One of his skeletal hands moved up and moved their hair away, inspecting the damage. Blue glowed quietly from his fingers and his eye in a crude attempt at healing magic. After a few seconds, he carefully took their arm, watching the child with a still glowing blue orb in his socket, watching for signs they’d break back into a fit.

One by one, he healed the bleeds, closing them up. It took a while, Sans wasn’t the best with healing. But soon enough he had managed, and Frisk wouldn’t be dying of blood loss.

They both let out long, heavy sighs. Frisk slowly stood up, trying not to shake, using the van for support.

They pulled out their phone. It’s been a couple hours since the van stopped in the parking lot. It was on silent mode to conserve battery, and Frisk had _tons_ of missed calls- Toriel, Asgore, and Undyne, even a few from Mettaton and some of the dogs on the Task force- even a call from Monster Kid’s father.

Seeing as they both needed a minute, Frisk played the voicemails while they made sure to force back the black muck still oozing in their mind, Sans getting his own shock under control. While Toriel’s furious reprimands and demands to tell her where the two of them had gone (they both suspected that, should sans check his phone, he’d have a bunch of voicemails from Toriel too with probably more colorful language.), and Asgores panicked concerns and Mettaton’s obviously worried encouraging words that everything would be fine and to stay safe, and Undyne’s screams that they had left her and she should be there to beat up Papyrus for making them worry, and the concerned whines from the group call at the taskforce headquarters where Doggo assured them they had eyes out everywhere and the doggy power couple assured them Papyrus was tough and would be fine- while they _all_ crushed frisks soul one after another, Monster Kid’s dad calling them in tears, begging them for where they were and if they’d found his son…

Dread filled Frisk in a sickening way and threatened to make their hands shake again.

They refused to let it.

“Let’s get pap.”

“ _Sit._ ”

Sans sounded particularly dangerous with that order.

Frisk looked back at him and then at the ground when they were met with a dark glare.

They sat.

“You-” he started, and stopped. Frustrated. “Kid.” He tried again, “We’re going to get them. But before we even think about it- before I even _think_ about letting you go in there with me, I need to make sure you aren’t _a_ , swinging this damn thing around like a maniac-” he motioned to the blade, seeming unsettled by the blood staining it as he shoved it into some snow and tried to wipe it off with the dirty slush. “and _b_ , you aren’t going to- to do _that_ while we’re in there.”

Frisk nodded, and with every passing second, the dread knotting their stomach tightened. Sans was also anxious to get the hell in there and find his brother.

And then, it was pitch black again.

No, Frisk wasn’t going into a fit again. They could tell because there were still two faint pricks of light shining from the depths of the eyes of the skeleton in front of them.

The orange colored light of the street lamp and all the lights of the windows in surrounding buildings, it seemed, had all shut down unexpectedly.

There was one source of light beyond Sans’ eyes, and Frisk looked up.

The building they had taken Papyrus and Monster Kid into.

One window.

Flickering with white light like a repeated strike of lightening, like strobe lights.

Déjà vu.

_Really really really really bad déjà vu._

Dread became true Terror.

“Sans.” Frisk wheezed. “Sans. Sans. That one. That one, Sans.”

Suddenly there was more light; bones, bones emerging from what looked like nowhere, engulfed in a blue glow of magic, and formed into the base of a set of strange bony stairs.

Frisk didn’t wait until he was finished, and neither did he. They both were up and running, bones from behind them moving into place ahead of them, a continuous ramp of bones- which Sans had more practice running on, apparently, because Frisk slipped on the round, smooth objects midway through and almost fell, only to be caught by the blue magic itself and Sans pulled them along with him, illuminated every few heartbeats by a blindingly bright white light before being cast into pitch blackness, over and over and over, a second between each change in strobe lights.

They reached the window in time to see Loox, strapped into an electric chair, turn to dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans' magic having a POSITIVE affect will actually make more sense later on; ill get to that... at some point. And i dont know if any of you have ever hyperventalated to the point you blacked out before, but it's fuckin terrifying.
> 
> on another point, the Feels Trip bus has reached the peek of the mountain and prepares to run down at full speed.
> 
> now it the time to buckle your heckin seatbelts and sign the dang waver.


	7. Dust is thicker than Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to hold the weight of knowledge beyond knowledge of ones own knowledge is a life of struggle. Man was not meant to know tomorrow or even the next minute, man was meant to live only in the present in an endless path and cycle, no matter their attempts to know the forward or stay in the behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans fucking looses it and Frisk becomes a shadow of Genocide.

Frisk was still held firmly in Sans’ capture of blue magic.

Unlike Frisk, Sans was not restrained.

It was his turn to overrun his tracks, loose it, do something impulsive and make a really wild move.

The dust hadn’t even settled in the metal death chair when Sans’ bones erupted in every corner of the room- it gave Frisk a flash back to when they, too, had been trapped in a box and bones had arisen with ever intent to impale them.

The memory made them flinch, _hard_ , gasping for breath as several gargled, muffled screams died away in the room, human corpses hitting the ground with broken thuds when the bones sank away to no longer hold them upright.

The memory triggered others as Sans jumped through the window and reminded Frisk of Papyrus, of all the dumb crazy times that sweet skeleton jumped through fricking windows at random.

As Sans set Frisk down inside, roughly and mostly subconsciously as his attention was clearly elsewhere, their sneakers touching down on a floor between blood puddles, those two very seperate memories twined.

Frisk had memories in other times, where these things crossed. Payrus and Death. Most of them, at Frisk own hands. But that wasn’t the mingling and binding thoughts they were feeling, that were building.

It all blended, Papyrus, Pain, death, Blood, and something in Frisk’s head, something _terrible_ , stirred with a desperate groan in the depths, miles underneath the same black pitch they’d drowned in earlier.

Behind vague, disassociated eyes and empty, neutral expression, Frisk watched Sans, raging.

His grin was marred with fury and his sneakers- he’d not worn slippers, for whatever reason, which was kind of convenient considering all the things they’d ended up having to do today- stood in the thickness of blood. His hands were spattered with spraying blood as his Bone attacks continued on lifeless bodies, and one large spray splattered over his face and his grinning teeth and around his eyes- moments ago, he’d been afraid, now, he was lost in hate.

With an encasement of blue he threw one body after another in every random direction, stomping through blood puddles to the chair. A skeletal hand slightly pushed into the dust and Frisk watched a shiver shake him as his magic intensified.

They felt absolutely nothing as they watched, mute and cold, his magic reacting to his outrage, tearing limbs off of bodies, throwing one so hard an audible snapping of all the bones in the back and the skull cracked. Another head even blew up and was crushed under the pressure of gravity.

Blood splattered on Frisk’s face, in their hair, mingled with their own on their sweater sleeves. A few stray shards of bone- not from Sans’ attacking bones, but from the splintering bones of the corpses- embedded in the skin of their arm like shrapnel and oozed.

Another Frisk would be terrified. Frisk from yesterday would surely be having a second panic attack. Frisk of right now, didn’t react at all. Didn’t even bat an eye at the injuries, staring neutrally upon the gore and wreckage and unchecked skeleton man, felling nothing; not fear, not concern, not even sadness for the- at least 12, but with the disfiguration and mutilation and separation, it was hard to tell as corpses became bits- now dead humans.

Frisk didn’t move, and they didn’t say anything, they watched with hollow eyes.

Their head spun and thoughts raced. Their face was passive.

Frisk registered Sans shouting hateful obscenities, crushing a decapitated head under his foot.

Only the name of Papyrus flashed, blinding and powerful, in Frisks otherwise empty thoughts.

When electricity and the lights returned, suddenly, Frisk knew what to do.

Just like before, in Toriel’s office.

But with no feelings of hope.

Just a knowledge; a sickening knowledge.

Familiarity as strong as Frisk might feel walking into their own bedroom swamped them and they knew what to do.

They walked up to one of the bodies, Sans bones still inflicting it, one springing up piece by piece from the floor and repeated piercing its corpse, by the window. Sans had dropped the knife right next to it as soon as he’d come through the window.

They picked up their weapon.

The kid turned away, and left Sans there, walking out the door. Slow, leisurely maybe, like they knew what they would find.

They _did_ know what they would find, as they walked 3 doors down, took a left, two more doors down, and on the right, opened the metal door.

They must have looked terrifying, covered from head to toe in blood, knife in hand, face expressionless. It was probably the equivalent of what Frisk looked like when they walked the underground in a Genocide timeline; blood replaced by dust, but to Frisk, blood _was_ dust. Monster’s dust, these days, held perhaps even more values then the blood of mankind in Frisk’s head.

Multiple humans looked up, startled by the sound of the door opening.

Frisk knew what they’d find here in this room.

They found what they knew it would be.

Frisked moved forward and didn’t even need to trigger a fight.

Monsters were so much harder to kill then humans, Frisk lamented.

Without so much as a single emotion reaching their face, 4 bodies piled up on the ground, bleeding, dead.

They added to the blood on Frisk’s person.

Frisk didn’t care.

Frisk turned then to the secondary presences of the room.

Monster Kid, huddled in the corner, staring at Frisk with an unreadable mingle of expressions, looking almost untouched.

Papyrus, hunched on one knee in front of him in what had once been protective. His HP was at one; and it was pink. He was missing an arm. He was cover in cracks and he was so gritty he looked like a statue constructed out of dust, like he was going to blow away at any second.

He stared at Frisk in total horror.

Frisk took in the full millisecond that they faced his expression.

He barely recognized them.

And then, he did.

He blew away.

The pink fading, final force of his HP disappeared.

He became a pile of dust.

_Again._

_Again, again and again and again and again_.

How many times had it been now?

How many times had Frisk watched this?

Papyrus turn to dust?

How many times had they’d been there- many of which, been the _cause of_ \- to watch him die?

How many times had Frisk killed Papyrus with their own hands?

How many times has Papyrus died in this timeline?

How many times had they seen this exact moment of his death?

How many times had they come in here, seconds too late, to only see him dust just in front of them?

How many times did they watch his scarf collapse with that pile of dust?

How many times did they find this room, only to see the pile and the scarf?

How many times?

The answer was enough times that Frisk didn’t even feel surprised.

They knew this would happen.

5, 10, 15, 30, 50.

This had happened _50_ times at the least, the memories came back and they relived each one as they remembered them.

Sans was coming down the hall, they could feel his magic coming, thrumming with rage.

He’d see his brother’s dust.

This wasn’t allowed to happen in Frisk’s timeline.

“F-Frisk?” Monster Kid whispered.

And then, Frisk was standing in Toriels office at the school, the sun beaming through the window on warm, unhurt skin, no taste of blood and dust on their tongue.

FILE RELOADED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loSING CONTROL OF THE STEERING WHEEL AND PEDAL TO THE FLOOR AAAHHHH


	8. Reload

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where both Frisk and Sans remember; and fucking hate what they remember.

Frisk was standing in Toriel’s office at the school.

The sun beaming through the window on warm, unhurt skin, no taste of blood and dust on their tongue.

Safe, uninjured, and somewhere, Papyrus was still alive again.

But, for whatever reason, this time around, they remembered.

Remembered a _lot_.

They remembered coming back into themselves, over and over and over, in this very spot.

Every small altercation as vague as partial reminders slipped in, timeline by timeline, they remembered each one like a movie, the whole days time of each one spanning only a minute, but each story with a similar ending: death, tragedy, loss.

Frisk remembered the first couple times, they never did find Papyrus. No. They found his dust and his scarf and the dust of many other monsters buried in jars by the dump. Sans had begged Frisk to go back those times. But nothing changed for a while; with each begged reset came the same outcome.

Then they started having vague changes. Frisk _knew_ things. Like… something was wrong, and that was it at first. They just knew something was _wrong_ , really wrong, when they went home that day, and they walked to Monster Kids’, but their friend had never made it home; even the first iteration, they knew something was wrong at that point, but after a few go arounds, they knew before they even left on the walk there.

Sans started coming to the school earlier, too, early enough to catch Frisk before they left to go to monster kid’s, and he kept coming earlier, minute by minute, until he went from showing up just before Frisk could leave, to before monster kid had even left the school grounds like last time.

He felt the repetitions even if he didn’t notice them at first. He didn’t just stay home waiting for Papyrus to come back, he started to leave the house looking for him, started showing up at the school earlier. He came to pick up frisk even though Papyrus’ note made it obvious Frisk shouldn’t still be at the school. But somewhere, Sans had known and hadn’t thought twice about the fact that frisk would be at the school when he got there.

Frisk looked down at Sans feet almost pointedly.

Sneakers, not Slippers, reflecting the glow the sunshine.

“ _Sans_.” Frisk wheezed, deep breathes, eyes wide. “You’re… your feet…”

Toriel and Sans both looked at frisk. They were both still worried about Papyrus; of course they found Frisk’s concern with his change in typical footwear weird after they first glanced down at the shoes.

Sans looked down at his feet after a moment for a second time, incredulous Frisk was bringing it up at a time like this. But like many many other times, Frisk saw something sparking in sans eyes, before becoming lost to him; a memory just at the edge of his mental horizon, but when he’d tried to grasp it, it retreated again into the smoke; like it had for Frisk these past 50+ timelines.

Frisk remembered now, though.

They remembered how this last iteration, they’d had a random worry Sans had done something dumb like crash his motorcycle.

That was around loop 20; Sans’ Slipper caught and slipped and something happened with the tiers… and they both died that one, in the crash, trying to catch up to Papyrus on the highway. After that loop, Sans was always wearing Sneakers in the iterations. He remembered and had warn other shoes, even if he _didn’t_ remember, he had remembered.

With it came several reminders of how dangerously Frisk had acted on the highway—twice Frisk had fallen trying to climb the van, one of which their reckless actions had surprised Sans so bad he had accidentally yanked the steering handles and they’d turned sharply into traffic.

They’d been run down by the massive semi they’d drove into the path of- oh god Frisk remembered that pain, of being crushed under tons and tons of weight, the _sound_ of Sans’ skull being crushed under a tier into finite powdered dust; Frisk had ended up surviving it initially and had been left half alive in the street- god it _hurt_ , the second car running them over— _still alive_ until the third one crushed and broke their throat and spine.

No- no- _stop thinking about that._

There isn’t time to think about the failures, Frisk needs to get them going, _now._

Besides, they’d died many times before. Spears of light and tridents and Gaster blasters- _especially_ the blasters- hurt a lot and certainly had ended them and their life. What’s a car crash in equivalent to being fired upon with a massive ray of concentrated death magic from the most powerful boss monster Frisk had ever known?

 _Stop it, Frisk!_ Now wasn’t the time, no, they had to get them moving- they had to get to Papyrus in time.

 _“_ Mom. Call Asgore.” Frisk says fast. “Then Undyne. Call for a search-” Frisk knows where they went missing from. They got monster kid. Monster Kid had only left the school a few minutes ago. “Right now. Around Monster Kid’s house.”

Frisk’s word poured out as they grabbed Sans arm.  They were dragging him out of the door, the shorter skeleton dragging his heels in surprise.

“Kid’s House-?” Toriel called.

“Quick- Quick- Come on-” Frisk breathed, the first two of their words aimed to their mother and the final two to Sans.

They didn’t waste time shutting their mother’s office door as Toriel, without further questioning, pulled out her phone, but while dialing called at her child and Sans to wait, frantically.

“Kiddo-” Sans started when Frisk had shut the door on their goat mom.

Frisk turned Sans around and started pushing against his back. “Call Alphys.” Frisk wheezed, “Phone Tracer. Find Papyrus.”

Frisk was pulling out their own cell phone, and dashed into one of the currently dark school offices as Sans, with far less questioning than Toriel, pulled out his phone while the idea of the tracker filled him with hope.

Frisk found a sharpie and ran back out into the hall, the two of them still walking fast down it, and grabbed Sans’ free hand, the other holding his phone to his skull. He looked down at Frisk, just as Alphys must have picked up the phone, because a startled noise sounded on the other end when Sans immediately started to talk to her before she could stutter out the usual nervous greeting.

Pulling up his blue jaket sleeve, Frisk wrote on the long bones up his arm. _White Van; License Plate CL78K5. Sky Scraper, parking lot, 6 th floor window, 8th from the left_. 

Just in case they weren’t fast enough. Just in case Sans had to do it, because Frisk knew that little panic attack theyd had- there were times where Sans hadn’t gone fast enough or held them down tight enough. Times where they’d hurt him, themselves, and times when the alarm had been raised because of Frisk screaming. If Frisk had the attack again, they doomed the mission. They’d have to get away from Sans to have it like they did prior to these iterations full of anxiety, so they didn’t waste time, so Sans could get to his brother before he dusted.

The reminder that because of Frisk’s _stupid_ panic attack, they’d failed to save Papyrus _so many times_ was bitting and sharp, but they refused to let themselves shake as they capped the marker.

Frisk pulled out their own phone, and dialed without hesitation as they stepped out the front doors of the school, Mettaton.

“ _Frisk- darling-_ ” Mettaton was breathless. “ _oh my, I'm with Alphys and she’s on the phone with- oh no, oh my, Papyrus- I-_ ”

“Call your news crew.” Frisk cut in sharply over his voice. It was a little out of character for Frisk to do that. It had Mettaton silenced in surprise. “Emergency alert, all monster TVs in Ebott. Avoid a white van. License Plate, CL78K5, look up who its registered under. most important- tell everyone on the news, in Ebott- _stay away_ from white van- _all white vans_. Dangerous. Dangerous. _Dangerous. NO ONE GOES NEAR IT._ ”

Frisk hung up.

Then they Dialed Undyne.

Sans watched them in mild surprise, but they could see it in his eyes. They were flashing and fading in and out between half backed thoughts and mingled wisps of the ‘missing’ memories.

Frisk repeated their message to Mettaton for Undyne, telling her to get the Taskforce in full motion and to put out word about _no one going near white vans_ , _ESPECIALLY_ the white van with that plate.

Frisk also told Undyne to get ready. Ready to invade. Frisk didn’t say what they were invading, where, or who. Undyne- whom hadn’t yet been called or notified of Papyrus gone missing- seemed genuinely excited at the idea of a real fight, and hopeful that this meant Frisk knew where the missing monsters were. Frisk didn’t bother filling Undyne in further, though. Toriel was going to call Undyne as soon as she got off with Asgore. She’d be caught up then on the Papyrus situation.

And Frisk couldn’t tell Undyne where they were invading yet, either. Frisk didn’t have an address; though they knew the city from a sign, Frisk didn’t know the building; they’d mostly stared at the sky and fought their anxiety and thoughts, and never snapped back to reality until the van parked. They’d have the building soon enough, though- tonight. And Undyne would be ready with a Royal Guard Army to save the monsters.

Frisk hung up with Undyne just as Sans hung up with Alphys; Frisk grabbed his arm, and they ran down the sidewalk at full speed.

It didn’t take long to reach the place of the original attack, the abduction sight of their two friends.

The white van was parked at the side of the road.

They were dragging a body of bone.

Sans panicked and his eye flared, ready to tear bodies apart, ready to get his brother.

Frisk jumped him, hard enough to make him hit the ground under their own weight. “ _no_.” They hissed. “ _Remember,_ Sans. _Remember_. We have to go _with_ them, for everyone. To save _everyone_. Remember, Sans. _Remember it, please_ , I can’t do it alone this time, _please_!”

They begged him, pulling on his jacket, hands shaking against Frisk’s own accord.

A blue flash in his eye and his teeth clenched.

Frisk saw familiarity flooding him as he stared down at the shaking of Frisk’s hands.

Terror crept like ice into his bones, Frisk could practically see it like frost spreading up them. There was no blood on Frisk’s sleeves, but Frisk knew he was seeing it flashing before his eyes like he was seeing it in front of him now as his expression twisted to match the one Frisk had seen when they’d gone into shut down.

Not just the most recent Timeline, but the last few, at various times, when Frisk had cracked and broken down.

The 26th time, when it had been in Alphys and Undyne’s kitchen and Frisk had thrown the drawer of knives at him in the midst of the fit and accidentally killed him, worsening their panic attack and stabbing themselves violently; they both died.

The 36th time when they’d found Papyrus’ dust for the first time in the room, mixed with Monster Kids, and Sans’ magic had flared terrifyingly, and between those things Frisk had spiraled and asphyxiated on the floor beside Papyrus’ own dust while hyperventilating; Sans last expression had been one of true nightmares as he watched the last member of his family die.

The 12th and first time Papyrus had dusted right in front of their face, just when they’d found him and the sense of relief to have finally found him alive was _crushed_ into dust with him, as his final HP dipped; the panic attack hadn’t resulted in death for either of Frisk or Sans, but the blood and wounds Frisk had caused themselves would have been lifelong mutilations, and Sans had watched and they remembered seeing his eyes but not calming down like they had and watching back as he was horrified to be unable to keep them pinned and mangled themselves despite his best attempts to stop them.

The 48th time when Frisk hadn’t understood why none of it was effecting them as bad as it should- they’d left Sans behind in the room having his blood bath and been unaffected by the sight (the 47th time just before, the sight had been the one to bring about the panic attack, but in his rage Sans hadn’t noticed frisks self-attacking behavior until it was too late to stop Frisk and they ended up killing themselves by impaling themselves on one of Sans own bones), and theyd gone on to find Papyrus and watch him turn to dust in front of their face after killing the humans in the room right before he died, seeing that disappointment on his face, he was _disappointed_ that Frisk had killed them when those _bastards_ had been  the ones that _killed him_ —and then he had died and in Frisk’s panic and agony theyd turned on _monster kid_ \- he was so unhurt but Papyrus as _dead_ why hadn’t Monster Kid _done something_ , how could he just have stood there- but that wasn’t fair to him, he was just a _kid_ , of course Papyrus would have protected him- _but that didn’t matter he had LET Papyrus DIE--_

Frisk couldn’t take that expression on Sans face. It brought up every single one of these last iterations where they’d _fucked up, wasted time, wasted time and gotten Papyrus killed, fucked up so bad they’d killed Sans not just that once but other times, useless, useless, useless-_ and it reminded Frisk of the horror in Sans expression every time- the same expression he had _right now_ as he remembered not just _one_ of those panic attacks but all of them, memory after memory of Frisk pulling their hair, biting themselves, slicing themselves with a knife, stabbing themselves, banging themselves on the ground when he tried to hold them down, screaming bloody murder when Frisk was such a quiet kid, breathing so fast they ended up dying next to the pile of his brother’s own dust, fought against his every move when he tried to help. The horror, fear and the lost confusion when he didn’t know what to do, or even what was happening, all increasing as he watched it unfold, the unfiltered terror as he tried to stop them and at times failed.

Frisk rolled off of him, on their hands and knees, feeling their stomach heave and heave. If they had eaten today, there might have been something to throw up, but there was nothing in their system to be expelled. Blood and dust and fear and disappointment and anger and self hatred and uselessness all burning and flashing past behind Frisk’s eyes, memories that Frisk couldn’t risk being stuck dwelling on, not right now.

Frisk felt Sans’ tension rising, climbing up toward those peeks he reached when they’d… _blacked out_ these last few- _just over 50, god damn it-_ reruns of the same _terrible_ day.

They forced themselves to get it under control. _Suck it up, you useless brat. Your wasting time again._ Stop and get it under _control_.

“ _Get us on top of the van._ ” Frisk forced out as they made themselves fight; forcefully taking deep breaths and struggling with all their being to put on their mask. “Like before. _Please_. We need to- to find them, _all_.”

They looked at him in the final moments before the neutral expression could take over, and Sans got an eyeful of the panic as it was steadily plastered away under a hollow emptiness. The expression struck him like a cord and his permanent smile slid down until it was straight- stuck between frown and smile, sweat building on his skull.

His hands formed fists of bones as he looked to Papyrus over his shoulder, fisting snow that crunched between his hard fingers.

They were closing the back of the van and the driver was heading for the front seat.

Frisk couldn’t wait much longer, and they had effectively wrapped up everything under their skin. No signs of that tension from before were visible.

Sans looked at Frisk and he looked… nervous, perhaps, but it was clear he didn’t like how far Frisk had sunken into their expressionless look.

It probably reminded him of Frisk in the underground.

This… this was the same as the underground.

For Frisk, it was.

This was war. This was enemies. This was needing to do it all over and over- _reset after reset after reset_ to make sure that these friends- _family_ \- lived happy and safe.

This was supposed to be the happy ending.

Frisk was still in the underground, fighting for the monsters.

Watching them die and then trying again.

Sans let it click.

If this was still the underground, then he had to think like he was still in the underground.

He grabbed the kid in both of his arms and with one flicker of reality around them, they were on top of the van.

This is the underground.

He can’t worry about the kids’ emotions.

Not until they can stop resetting this day.

There were monsters in danger.

They had to focus.

Frisk hunkered down flat and Sans did as well, and they both waited as the van started and the nightmare drive began to take them away for the multi hour drive.

Neither spoke to each other. Frisk just focused on getting a handle on their emotions. They couldn’t risk breaking down in front of Sans again. They couldn’t.

Frisk hoped they’d never see the damn parking lot again; because at just two stoplights away, Frisk finally recognized where they were. They could see the ugly orange light- the high rise building across the street with the security gate. No other cars.

Now. They should- do it _now_. Frisk knew where they were and where the other monsters were now.

 _Now_ they save pap.

Frisk shifted and reached- but their fingers found empty space at the spot where the stored their weapon. No knife. Not this time; they hadn’t made it to Alphys and Undyne. Frisk cursed their luck.

The car started forward, but Frisk knew there was going to another stop, when the street light turned red at the next intersection up ahead, like it always did.

Frisk grabbed Sans’ jacket. “Crash us. Stop the van. Get pap.” They told him quickly, when the red glow of the van’s break lights and the stop light burned around them.

Sans looked at them- he’d been silent- and twitchy- the whole ride, staring at the open sky turn from orange to black and fill with stars; his favorite thing, but offering him nothing comforting in this situation. Because they weren’t his favorite thing, as much as he loved those stars- no, one of his favorite things was locked up in an unmarked white van and the other had suddenly revealed a secret they’d managed to keep through time and space itself and he had only seen for the first time (albeit a couple times now considering it was the same day on repeat) today that was terrifying on many levels.

His white eyes disappeared and a blue iris took one’s place. The only hesitation he had as the van pulled to a complete stop for the intersection was to glance directly at the building.

  1. Somewhere along this ride, it would appear Sans had leaked more of his memories back to himself beyond just the panic attacks. He knew the destination of the van, where they would take his brother, where he always managed to find Frisk again after the highway escapades.



The glance only infuriated him, and he grabbed the front of Frisk’s sweater in a tight bony grip. Suddenly they were both standing on the sidewalk and Frisk watched as two long, sharp bones slammed out from the depths of the asphalt; one speared through the seat the driver would be in, the other tearing like a warm knife through butter into the floor and through the back doors of the van; it ripped the floor open and burst the doors, but it was far enough back that no one in the back area of the van would have been hurt. His brother and a kid were in there, after all.

The sound of two screams ignited; neither one familiar. Frisk didn’t care about them. They already knew that their monster friends were unconscious at this point.

Frisk only cared about Papyrus and Monster Kid right now.

Their feet pounded over the road to the broken back doors, one only hanging by one of its hinges and the other by only half of that one hinge, and when Sans’ bones blinked out of existence the half-one broke off entirely.

They barely registered the tall man with blonde tufts of hair stumbling toward the doors waving something around fearfully, or the other man in the driver’s seat bleeding heavily from his arm and his leg- speared through by the bone attack before it had vanished.

Frisk’s attention was caught and maintained the second their eyes locked on the battered body of their skeleton friend, slumped on the ground of the van’s dirty floor that scuffed his white bones with dirt, and Monster Kid lain limply just next to him, his shirt torn as Frisk knew it would be from the bits in the bushes and from seeing him in that- that building of bloodshed and dust spilling; moth bound with metal cuffs around hands and feet.

Terror seized Frisk, like before, and their hands shook.

In a rational part of their head they would have know that both of them were okay right now- if they were dead they’d be dust, and besides, Papyrus definitely doesn’t die yet; they’d had the pleasure watching the second he dies multiple, multiple times, and now wasn’t that second.

But they weren’t thinking rationally, as every instinct screamed that people lying motionless was _bad_ , they could be _hurt_ , they’d been _kidnapped of course it was bad_ , Frisk needed to be at their side _right now_.

The loud sound of a bullet firing had everything around them cracking, severing the thoughts and fear for their friends in the van.

Frisk looked at blondie. That thing he’d been waving around was a gun.

They looked at Sans with wide eye over their shoulder when Frisk themselves felt nothing at all in the way of pain, when the understood that that they hadn’t been the one who was shot- as their head turned, though, the man with the pointed it at Frisk, but Frisk turned their head to Sans anyway.

Sans was looking at Frisk when their eyes met, and his hand slowly reached up to touch a spot on his stomach; a bullet hole pierced it- or rather, the jacket that concealed to empty space a stomach would _be_. He would live just fine.

Frisk moved to look back at blondie, but the cracks in the world shattered entirely when the next bullet firing pierced them through their skull.

They didn’t hear the shot that killed them, instantaneous death, before Frisk blinked and they were… once again, in Toriel’s office.

Sans stumbled back and hit the wall, wheezing.

Frisk dropped to their knees, eyes wide.

Toriel looked at them, confused and frightened at their seemingly random actions.

Frisk and Sans looked at each other.

Both cringed.

They had to do this again, then.

Note to self; blondy has a gun.

Rerun number 57, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YOU ALL TO PUT ON YOUR SEAT BELTS
> 
> NONE OF YOU LISTENED
> 
> THIS IS A FEELS TRIP DOWN THE ANGST COAST WITH PIT STOPS AT EMOTIONAL DAMAGE LAND
> 
> WHY ARENT YALL WEARING YOUR SEATBELTS GOOD GOD


	9. Red and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety is a darkness thick like tar. it fills the mind, and leaves no space for things like thought or sight. its components are fear, pain, and misery. above the surface lies in wait the open air, but if you cannot swim through your anxiety, one will never breathe again. 
> 
> Nothing is as fine as it seems under the mask of the one who looks empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh
> 
> warnings and what not

Frisk repeated the early onset of the cycle. Told Toriel to call Asgore and then Undyne, pushed and pulled Sans- who was struggling to even stay up right at this point- out of the door, re-write the information on his arm, telling him to make calls and making calls themselves.

Everything went exactly the same as the previous timeline up until they found the van again, the only noticeable difference up to that point being Sans’ lagging with a hollow look in his eyes.

There was one _other_ difference before they had reached the van… but Sans didn’t know about that one yet. Frisk wasn’t going to tell him, either. He wouldn’t allow it.

If he didn’t look so vacant, Frisk would have made a pun about him having a hollow look in his empty eye sockets, but there wasn’t any proper way to insert a joke about it, not with this mood, and Frisk didn’t have Sans’ uncanny ability to make a joke in situations like this.

Newly different upon reaching the van of enemies, was the lack of argument when they reached the van. They sat in quite, waiting, this time. Frisk grabbed Sans’ arm when the humans finished loading up Papyrus and Monster Kid, and without questioning the child, Sans transported them to the roof of the automobile.

Then, once again the ride was in silence, and Frisk struggled to come up with a new plan over the next few hours as they rode from the orange skied sunset unto the pitch black night, over the highway and into an unfamiliar jungle of concrete and sky scrapers that Frisk wished wasn’t now becoming less and less unfamiliar after this same ride taking up space in 39 of 47 reruns.

When- if?- this was all over, Frisk would never come back to this city again.

This time, Frisk sat up when they pulled onto the highway exit and their speed decreased significantly compared to that of the highways. Keeping a grip on the metal bars, Frisk pulled out their phone.

Once again, it was full of messages. Frisk didn’t stop to listen to any of them, nor check the flood of texts; Frisk already knew them and what they would say, both because Frisk knew their friends well, and because Frisk had heard similar ones over 50 times.

Frisk did, however, listen to one of the voicemails.

Monster Kid’s father’s.

With the change in timeline he had gone from begging Frisk to call and tell him if they knew where his son was, to now begging for information on what was happening. It was virtually the same, but the tears were stronger and Frisk listened to it with an expression of immovable emptiness.

Sans had sat up when Frisk had earlier, and he watched, that same empty expression sinking and staining into the bone of his skull as Frisk remained emotionless up to the final beep that signaled the call had ended.

Frisk knew he knew that they’d listened to the voicemail already too, and he probably thought Frisk was being sadistic listening to the father cry all over again. And… well, Frisk _was._ It was… punishment for failing so many times, in its own way.

Frisk was also looking for something to be determined about… but… nothing found its way through to them. It was like they weren’t really a part of this anymore. Frisk felt… _distant._

Sans was still looking at them with that emptiness.

Frisk was just about ready to ask him what he was thinking to see if they were right about the voicemail, or what that expression _was_ because it was really starting to mess with their head, or maybe for input on what to do for Papyrus and Monster Kid’s rescue mission- but immediately after the beep, Frisk’s phone started ringing. It was the Ouran High school Host Club opening ringtone Frisk had set for Alphys.

Frisk turned their phone on silent- god would it be bad if Frisk’s phone rang while something was happened- and answered Alphys.

“F-FRISK! I-I SAW- I'M HACKED IN YOUR PHONE WITH A TRACER LIKE PAPYRUS- YOU WERE LISTENING TO- uhm- that-that-that was monster kid’s- i-i—I'm sorry that was personal b-but I heard i-it, u-uh, sorry, sorry, but- but I saw your phone was finally- finally active- UH-UHM, FRISK, LISTEN, I HAVE THE CITY YOU’RE IN ON MY CONSOLE- AND- AND EVERYONES RIGHT HERE-”

Frisk hadn’t managed a word in edgewise yet, and still didn’t get a chance as multiple voices started in after Alphy’s panicked stutters.

“my child, my child, where have you and Sans gone?! Why are you so far away?! I—” Toriel.

“BRAT, WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT PAPYRUS WHEN YOU CALLED, WHAT THE HELL, FRISK?! PAPYRUS IS MY STUDENT AND MY FRIEND! YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME COME WITH YOU, YOU BRAT-” Undyne.

“Frisk, child, please- where are you- have you found Papyrus? Is Sans with you? Are you safe?” Asgore.

“Darling, I did what you asked, but why did you not- darling this is very dangerous I cant approve- and d-don’t worry about your friend’s father, dear, we all heard the voicemail, but please do not fret about him, we are taking care of him at the taskforce-” Mettaton.

“Frisk my child, my child, are you still with Sans, is Sans okay, _are you_ okay, have you found Papyrus- why are you so many towns over, why have you not answered your phone-” Toriel, again.

“DAMN IT, FRISK, YOU BRAT, WHERE’S PAPYRUS AND WHERES THE YELLOW KID?! WHY DID YOU ASK ME FOR A FREAKING ARMY, AND WHY AM I STILL HERE WHYLL YOU- DAMN IT, BRAT-” Undyne again.

Asgore must have taken back the phone again because Frisk started to hear him say something, but then the sound of Mettaton shouting and silencing all the noise cut off the king. A shuffle and the phone must have been handed back to Alphys again, because she started talking again, a little less fast but still hard pressed and anxious.

“Frisk, please- please tell me you’re with Sans, you aren’t- aren’t alone out there are you? And if he’s not- not with you, then- then I- I don’t-”

Frisk’s first movement since first answering the call was to hold it up to Sans. He cut across Alphys with as much fake calm as he could muster, filled with humor that sounded surprisingly realistic, but from the expression on his face was dry and baseless. “Careful, Alphy, don’t lose your head. M’right here at the kid’s side. Kids’ fine, we don’t have to worry about having to _barium_ just yet.”

Alphys snorted on the other end and then there was an annoyed noise from her. “Sans, how dare you make a- a chemistry joke right now!”

“Sorry, sorry, I know, its _punthetic_ isn’t it?” Sans’ wry grin spread but got no more cheerful. Then it fell back again. “Alphys.” He said the name far more serious.

“S-S-Sans?”

“Give the phone to Undyne.”

“R-r-right.”

Sans handed the phone back to Frisk with a knowing look as Alphys shuffled about on the other end. “Kiddo, you and me, same as last time. We’ll get pap at the intersection. Blondy has his gun, we know that now.”

Frisk nodded quietly. “Worth a shot.” Frisk muttered on a dark tone. Sans gave them an equally dark smile.

Also, it seems Sans remembered the small army Frisk had told Undyne to ready for an invasion. Apparently he was going to be certain Frisk got to use it this time.

When Frisk held the phone up to their ear, they waited, and soon enough, Undyne’s loud voice on the other end made a demand of Sans’ name, expecting it to still be him.

“Undyne.”

“FRISK! FUCK, KID-”

“Undyne. Did you do what I ask?”

A pause.

“The whole Taskforce, previously the Royal Guard, is crowded around in or outside my house waiting for my orders.” Undyne responded calmly, with all the smoothness of a military leader- because, after all, she was one. “We’re ready for anything.”

“Get them all to the city we’re in on Alphys’ screen.” Frisk said seriously. “Call Alphys when you get here, ask her to direct you to where ever we are.”

“Is that so?” Undyne’s smoothness was hot with the taste of knowing a fight when she felt it coming. “Who’ll we be _invading_?”

Frisk was quiet for a moment. “Who doesn’t matter yet.” Frisk mumbled. “What matters is who we’re saving.”

“Right you are, Frisk.”

“And we’re saving everyone.”

“My troops will be there in half the time it took you to get there, guaranteed. This’ll be war.”

Undyne hung up dramatically and Frisk hung up a moment later.

Sans’ empty expression was gone. His eyes were on fire.

At least _one_ of them had determination. Even if it was a bit backwards.

They were approaching the second intersection, just in time. They both stood, and Sans offered Frisk a hand, which was accepted. A moment passed and they were suddenly on the sidewalk again.

Like before, an eruption of bones. This time, the front one aimed better, because there was only one scream to tear apart the quiet air of an empty street. The driver was definitely dead.

Once again, Frisk ran into the road, no hesitation, to the broken van as the bones vanished again. This time they recognized the small hand pistol being waved toward them. This time, the sound of it firing didn’t make them freeze as they ran toward the still bodies in the back, and neither Sans nor Frisk had to worry, because Frisk remembered the bullet went straight threw Sans’ hollow body.

The second gunshot fired and Frisk flinched in instinct, but felt nothing. A cloud of blue magic had reared it’s way between Frisk and the blonde man, and the bone the magic carried spun in a random direction from the force of the impact and the bullet it had blocked.

Frisk ran and jumped at their full sprint into the back without having to stop, and before the gun could be fired again--

The letter opener that Frisk had stuffed in their sleeve in the offices before leaving the school worked just as well as any knife. After all, if Chara-Frisk had once used a toy plastic knife to kill an entire species, the metal semi-blade could deal plenty violence.

It cut quite smooth through throat and the spray of blood once again… held no meaning for Frisk.

It was… nothing.

No remorse. No guilt. Nothing but an iron taste on the air.

The body hit the floor and the gun fired again in a knee-jerk reaction and if blondy wasn’t dead immediately from a slit throat and artery, then the ricochet as the bullet fired back and shot through his head did him in first.

More blood splatter, this time the upward angle sending it spraying right into Frisk’s face.

The taste in the air was now on their tongue and lips. Iron and Salt.

Frisk didn’t react. Frisk stared down upon the dropped body, the knife-like letter opener retrieved from a teachers office this run when Frisk had gone to retrieve the sharpie to write on Sans’ arm dripping the thick wet substance.

Frisk stared at that body so long, and… waited.

For… for _something_. For _anything_.

Nothing in their head moved.

Their heart didn’t even skip a beat.

They just… didn’t react.

They had expected to… maybe feel… well… _something._

They waited for any emotion to surface, staring at the body as one might stare at a simple stone on grass, expressionless and emotionless.

They waited, but nothing came.

They turned away from the body and still felt nothing.

Frisk turned to Sans.

He was sweating. And watching them.

He was standing in the same place he’d been standing the last time Frisk had seen him before they, themselves, had died in the last round.

He was smiling, and although Frisk knew he was watching them, his eyes were empty; no blue, no white, just endless black depths.

He didn’t know that this timeline Frisk had found themselves a weapon again. That was different from the last timeline. Frisk hadn’t wanted to tell him. He wouldn’t have allowed it.

He was watching them.

Suddenly Frisk felt sick.

He was watching them really, really close.

They felt something coming at last.

They felt self-conscious. Small.

Frisk looked down at the knife in their hands.

Their chest expanded slowly and compressed again even slower, almost so slow it was distorted.

They raised their little blade up and looked at it, slick with blood over the stainless steel.

The world twisted around Frisk’s head and bent, distorted, like you’d see moments before you’d pass out, everything swirling but getting bigger, too.

The weapon suddenly looked huge.

Sans looked _huge_.

He was still watching them.

Watching them.

_Why is he watching._

_He’s watching._

_He’s watching._

Things twisted and stretched and grew around them as Frisk shrank. Swirling. Twisting. Growing. Towering. Closing in. Surrounding. Trapping. Something powerful and heavy gripped their chest. Very, very heavy. Tight. Surrounded in shadows, everything was big and closing in overhead and blending together as they twisted.

_He’s the judge._

_Judgement day._

_Golden corridors._

Can’t breathe. Heavy. Spinning.

_He’s always watching._

_Beautiful day, judgement, it’s a beautiful day outside._

_He’s watching._

_Watching._

This knife is huge. It’s heavy.

Just… they could just… Frisk could just… Just…

_He’s watching._

_Judgement day._

Just… put it there, on their other arm, that’s right… and- and **_pull._**

_Murderer murderer murderer_

_He’s watching you, he’s watching._

_Judgement._

Heavy. Can’t breathe.

_It hurts. Do it again._

This time harder. On the arm- **_pull_**.

_Again, another, for judgement._

Put it on your arm and cut, deeper.

_Again, another, for justice._

Stab deeper.

_Again, another, for punishment!_

_JUDGEMENT._

Forget the arm- just stab- anywhere.

Harder. Deeper.

_He’s watching._

_JUDGEMENT DAY._

_GOLDEN CORRIDORS._

_Can’t cut anymore. Wheres the knife? Where’d it go?_

_He’s watching._

_He took it?_

_SCREAM_

_FIGHT_

_MURDER_

_BLOOD_

_JUDGEMENT_

_PUNISHMENT_

_JUSTICE_

_DESERVE_

_PUNISHMENT_

_AGONY_

_MURDER_

_MURDERER_

_JUDGEMENT_

_Heavy can’t breathe heavy_

_He’s watching you_

_He’s always watching you_

_He’s caught you_

_YES_

_CAUGHT_

_PAIN_

_MURDERER_

_JUDEMENT_

_He took it?_

_No knife?_

_No pain?_

_No judgment?_

_PUNISHMENT_

_BITE_

_BITE_

_CLAW_

_SCRATCH_

_SLAM_

_PAIN_

_JUDGEMENT_

_PAIN_

_PUNISHMENT_

_JUDGEMENT_

_“-top-”_

_Top?_

_PAIN_

_“-risk-”_

_Risk?_

_JUDGEMENT_

_FIGHT_

_“-pleas-”_

_“-fri-”_

_Can’t breathe_

_Heavy_

_PAIN_

_AGONY_

_SUFFER_

_PUNISHMENT_

_BLUE_

_BLUE_

_BLUE_

_blue_

_BLUE_

_blue_

_BLUE_

_“-Frisk?!”_

_BLUE_

_PUNISHMENT_

_BLUE?_

_BLUE_

_Blue_

_“-that- that’s right-”_

_“-blue-”_

_Blue_

_Blue_

_BLUE_

_Blue_

_“-yes, it- it’s blue, Frisk, blue, yes, blue-”_

Like breaking a surface of water- but its thicker than water. Like Tar. Or Pitch.

The twisting and spinning and growing slows down.

Above the surface where they break, it’s blue.

Cant breathe.

Blood?

Blue?

Blue, everywhere.

Frisk watches the blue. Moving, moving blue. The blue is watching them. Blue. Blue. Hum. Magic hum. In the air. Hum, and blue.

“YES!”

“Y-yes, Frisk, it’s me, calm down, please, stop. Its me, alright? Stop, _please_ -”

It’s Sans.

The Blue is Sans.

The red?

The red is you.

The bloody red hands in front of you are yours.

The glowing blue above you is Sans.

He’s watching you.

His eye, its blue.

It hums with magic energy.

And just like that, the world stops spinning.

It settles, slowly, put it stops.

The spinning stops, the world is retreating, the undersurface if thick water is draining.

Frisk feels light headed.

Everything hurts.

Sans has them pinned down again.

Both his bone hands hold their wrists.

He isn’t strong enough to keep you entirely pinned on the ground- floor? In the van?- this time around.

One hand covered in blood is pushing hard against his sternum to get him off. The other has a tight grip on his neck, his spine.

Frisk notices their still screaming, and their voice fails in a clatter of noises collapsing in a broken crescendo.

Fingers lose their grip and purchase, they fall limp, held up only by bone hands smeared with blood.

“Blue. Sans?”

“Its Sans.” He repeats back, slowly now, “god, _Frisk_ \- it’s okay, it’s okay, just- shit-” less slowly.

His hands, still holding Frisk’s wrists, are shaking. His jacket is stained with blood, it’s definitely Frisks’.

“blue. Sans.” Frisk’s drawl is hoarse, broken, pained. “Sans.”

Frisk watches Sans.

He’s shaking.

Sans watches Frisk.

He’s terrified.

The look in his eyes is worse than the last time this happened.

He’s remembered every time Frisk died from this in the past 50-odd redos. Every time they died and took Sans with them in death, too.

Frisk’s rarely ever seen Sans cry.

His tears are as blue as his eye.

Frisk’s arms hurt when he finally starts to put them down, letting his own go slack so they rest on Frisk’s chest, his grip still firm, afraid to let go of them. They hurt a lot more than the last time. Deeper.

Frisk’s throat hurts, too.

On the outside.

It’s bleeding.

Their neck.

They feel a hot, thin trail of thick liquid running down.

It’s only a nick.

But the implications are obvious.

It’s cut and it’s not deep, but it’s jagged, because they were stopped by someone.

It _would_ have been deep.

They’d been stopped.

Sans’ tears are blue.

Frisk’s are clear.

They both mingle with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FEELS TRIP BUS JUST DROVE OFF A MOUNTAIN
> 
> OOPS


	10. Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> count your lucky stars this kid is still alive

Sans has seen a lot of scary shit in his life.

Many people would be terrified to be in the same circumstance he’s been through.

I mean, he’s watched a child murder his friends, and his gentle brother, in countless different lives.

He’s seen the amalgamates- witnessed their creation for some of them, too, which was far more terrifying seeing as no one knew what would happen to those fallen people in their initial determination experiments before he quit.

He’s been around Frisk for so many years worth of resets and timelines that he’s heard the better part of the kid’s confessions, and the kid tells him mind-chilling, although very brief and not very detailed one-liner stories about their under ground experiences, their dealings with Chara, their _old_ family above ground.

He’s seen Undyne the Undying, and Asgore the gentle go boss-mode, He’d seen the Gaster blasters when they were first created at the hands of WD Gaster- in that guy’s control, they were far more frightening, you can trust Sans on that.

It took a lot, it was to say, to scare Sans so bad.

I mean, he’s seen his little buddy die countless times. Even during this last day- they’d died 50 times over, and more. Not including any other resets and re dos beyond todays escapades in time shenanigans.

But this-

This was entirely different, and it was a whole new something to fear, and hell to the man or monster that said he didn’t have the right to be utterly fucking _horrified_.

I mean, Sans knew Frisk had problems.

Chara, of course, was mind fuck in every which way you looked at them.

But as far as Sans could remember, in most every timeline, Chara kinda faded into the utter back of Frisk’s mind after they reached the surface; Sans hadn’t ever _asked_ the kid about it, but he knew that much, though not why or where on earth Chara went. Maybe Frisk knew, but Sans didn’t.

There were also Frisk’s problems- Sans knew more about these then he did about the first fallen human’s grip on the kid’s mind. As said, he’d heard a few whispered and whimpered details about how fucked up Frisk’s life was; most of which spanned from that recent hospital trip, but there had been a sentence or two somewhere in their unnumbered experiences through the resets. Again, they didn’t _talk_ about these things, so Sans didn’t really… know much at _all_ , actually, but there was a brief exchange somewhere down the line of countless do-overs. Sans didn’t know all that much, but he knew Frisk shouldn’t have been a kid wandering the ‘haunted’ mountain of Ebott, and Frisk said they feared their old home; that was all he knew and all he _needed_ to know.

He knew the kid had stuff wrong in the head- who wouldn’t after everything Frisk had been through? From the home aboveground pre-falling into the domain of monsters that certainly was bad _somehow_ , to falling into a world of once-believed-fictional magic creatures, to a fucking flower hunting you down to the ends of the earth, to all of said monsters jumping at you to fight at every chance, to countlessly reliving friends and surrogate family members trying to kill you again and again and again- many times succeeding, too.

Humans had a thing called PTSD.

Sans knew the basics, and he knew what caused it, and he’d be damn right shocked if Frisk didn’t have it.

Frisk also had social issues. Socially anxious; couldn’t deal with crowds in the least. They were lucky their ambassador ship hadn’t been faulted, and thankfully Frisk could handle it with Toriel and Asgore there at their side, but the fact still stood. The kid was always nervous and anxious- then again, maybe that was also PTSD related? They didn’t like to talk to the point that the amount they’d been talking lately, and all their confessions and emotional soul bearing was probably adding to the stress.

Speaking of stress, Frisk had a pretty _bad_ idea on how to deal with it. And they just so happened to have the anxiety levels of a fucking demon but all the patience and calm of a saint. And it was _bad_ , because when they did that thing- Sans hated when they did the thing, the straight-face matter of fact hard headed thing- when they did that and locked it all up so _tight_ , so much anxiety and stress and emotion in such a small body, they shook and they cried and they struggles to keep calm after so long.

The hospital incident with the bullying and the threats and all of that combined added only as a served example of this. Frisk locked it up and went about as normal, as if it had no effect on them. Sans thought the kid was _stupid_ doing that, but they were so fucking _tough_ that sometimes he forgot to try and pry open that damned calm face and catch a glimpse at the underhood; the result of letting Frisk bottle it up had been multiple fights, a hospital stay, and, count them, _three_ emotional break downs with scant shaking and bawling in between.

Thinking back on it, Papyrus mentioned that the kid had clawed at their bandages at one point in the nurses office after Sans had left, but Sans hadn’t quite expected the depth of this kids self-destructive behavior.

Frisk had a fuck ton of problems and life added to it with the passing hour, it seemed, because _hah, hey, guess what, the kid fucking broke._

57 times and Sans could pick out 49 break downs of shaking until they vibrated and loosing themselves in a moment of sobs. 36 of which evidently resulted in this end-game panic attack where the kid just- just _self destructed_ like a time bomb and- and-

God damn, Frisk was the toughest person Sans knew. Undyne’s raw muscle and Sans’ ridiculous magic didn’t even hold a candle to Frisk’s emotional strength. There probably wasn’t a single person above or under ground to ever exist that could handle as much utter bull shit as Frisk dealt with in a god damn minute of their continued existence.

And the kid _broke_.

It was- It was-

It was the most terrifying thing Sans had ever watched.

And he had the fucking _pleasure_ of remembering seeing it for the _first_ time a total of _36 times in a row_.

Redo number 57 rolls around and here Sans stands. The whole truck load of memories of watching this kid blow up, curled on the floor and hyperventilating to their death or tearing into their own flesh fresh in his mind, when that _expression-_ the expression on their _face-_

The schooled empty nothingness the child adopted to cover themselves disappeared the second the blood sprayed the innards of the van’s interior and it was replaced with a true unsettling hollow- not just the mask the kid wore, the world’s best poker face that honestly annoyed the hell out of him- no, it was pure nothingness and a lack of all feeling.

The same detached, disassociated look the kid wore in the land under their feet, on their slasher runs as they brought forth the total genocide of his people. The look of a killer who couldn’t bring themselves to think about the fact that they were a mass murderer and assumed what they were doing was just fine.

Then they looked at Sans.

With the mask gone, their face was raw. They looked at Sans and he had the full _absolute pleasure_ of watching the _true fucking landslide_ as the kid’s-

This fucking _kid_ and a _kid_ he considered a member of his fucking _family_ -

He watched their hollowness flicker with recognition as they saw Sans and had something _worth_ feeling- they recognized him and it was calm in their eyes. Comfort. Warmth. They saw sans and these emotions they associated their friend and their family with were raw, visible and unrestrained with any thoughts. It was okay for a split moment, when all they recognized was the skeleton himself.

And then they recognized everything- whatever expression he’s had, the situation, the day itself, everything. They took it in and he watched recognition take a grim turn toward a morbid understanding.

They literally just sat there and stared at one another for a solid 10, 20, 30 minutes, whether the kid knew it or not. They probably didn’t. Sans saw that same glaze that had taken over every other time. They were gone. He could feel it coming and waited, waited, not sure if it was coming or not with every minute that passed.

He had the joy of watching them snap- like someone snapped their fingers just after the 30 minute mark and he watched in a matter of _seconds_ as understanding flew by right out the window and confusion, fear, guilt, anger, pain, sadness, every negative emotion Sans had ever felt, ever seen, and others he’d never even heard of before flew around at speeds ungodly and unparalleled.

Frisk’s hoarse, airy voice started in a whisper, and the only word, “Judgement”, climbed at the end into a piercing _scream_ and shit- _shit- shit- shit- FUCK- SHIT- NO-_

He knew then he had to go and go fast- he knocked them over hard with a slam of his body, into the van and pressed on the floor of it, but by the time he had reached them this kids freakishly fast process had already started, and they’d already started hack, hack _hacking_ into their own arms, tearing up that stripped fall sweater and spreading their own blood around like it was nothing.

They started screaming and kicking at him and he- he didn’t- he couldn’t-

The knife grazed his ribs and cut through his shirt and he flinched. 1 HP was a real fucking hassle, he needed to be careful- where had they even gotten the damn weapon- the blood made them so slippery- shit- _damn it- shit- shit- shit- fUCK- SHIT- NO-_

He practically tore the one arm, bleeding heavily, from their possession with one of his hands and then the kid- this _fucking child_ panicked and screamed louder than they already were in reaction and in an act of desperation their flailing, weapon wielding hand was at their own throat and- and- and-

“Frisk _no no NO NO_ _STOP-_ ”

It was a _fucking bad._

He had _the absolute **fucking delight** _ of watching as the knife dug _all the way in_.

Buried to the fucking _hilt_.

He’d never been this scared, petrified, in his life.

He did something dumb and pulled it back out- he knew enough about human anatomy to know that it would only bleed more and he knew that as fast as he tore it back out he probably only cut it more.

But he pulled it out and flung it as _far_ away as fucking _possible_ and his hand grabbed and pressed the wound closed the best the bones could and then there was _blue._

His eye was on fire and smoking and the glow was so strong it could be mistaken as day time in the vehicle, and his heavy, humming magic fluxed like electricity through the marrow of his bones and coursed between his hand and their neck with an unfamiliar ferocity, so strong there was an deafening hum rising in volume to rival the child’s screams.

The kid’s hand fought to push him off at his chest, flailing and pushing, the other one knocking him once hard in the shoulder, then squeezed on the first place it could grip- so happened to be his own neck. The pressure burned and stung and hurt but he couldn’t think about it, wheezing.

“Please, Frisk, Please please please please _please please please_ -”

They stopped breathing for a moment and Sans cursed and cursed, ignoring the cyan flecks of moisture landing on his hand, lost in the magic fire burning off the ends of his finger and his palm that promptly caused them to evaporate, even when they started to fall quicker as they streamed off his face from both the hollow eye socket and the one glowing the brightness of a small sun. Their hands were going limp and the glassy eyes were clouding over _and they weren’t breathing--_

“-no no no no no _no no no no no no NO NO NO NO FRISK PLEASE NO FRISK-”_

A sharp burst of magic started through the child on impulse- it was a trick for monsters in emergencies to jumpstart their magic system when they were dying, but Sans doubted the electric jolt would do the humans’ physical based body any good right? No less it was instinct- he was a terrible healer, his magic was mostly destructive and possessive- Papyrus was the one who had magic best suited to nurturing, healing- but Papyrus was unconscious and Sans was so fucking terrified and by instinct he fired a second jumpstart because he didn’t have any other idea of what to do.

The electricity started the child’s body and they took in a deep gasp and Sans heaved a terrified laugh. He’d question how that worked another time.

The screaming restarted in response but Sans grinned wide and let go of the child’s neck. Hah- better- hah, _hahah, please don’t fucking die, heh, please, oh fucking PLEASE-_

Their head slammed hard backward on the ground and the hand on his spine became tighter and claws dug in sharp between two vertebrae and it fucking _hurt_ , holy shit- “FRISK?!” it was loud and he just needed some sort of _response_ , something, _something_ to prove the kid was still there besides frantic screaming and pain, _something-_

“ _Blue?_ ”

The scream broke down in disorientation around the word, a broken whisper of confusion, lost in god only knew what ocean of madness. Sans peered down through the fire of his eye.

They were watching- staring into his eyes again.

Like that last time. The only time in Sans’ recounted memories that Frisk came back and didn’t die from this- this- this- _this. Whatever the hell THIS is._

Good. _Good! GOOD! YES! YES!_

“Yes, yes, yes, _yes, Frisk, yes, that’s- that’s right, Frisk!”_

They yanked on him in response and their scream shuttered and climbed a few octaves and their feet kicked behind him, where he straddled their waist. His hands clasped tight against Frisk’s wrists but he didn’t pull them or even try to detach them from his own person- god he spent so much energy just now with his full throttle attempt at healing; he wouldn’t be able to hold even one of their hands down- and as long as they were on him, even if the one holding the column of his neck _hurt_ , they weren’t doing themselves more damage with them, so he held them in a tight grip and ignored the choked sob he made as he leaned down to the kid, pressing his forehead to theirs.

“Frisk, _Frisk, it’s blue, right? Blue- blue, Frisk, blue- please, Frisk- come on-_ ”

Frisk’s wide pupils dilated sharply and something- a rolling, violent shiver traveled down them down to their feet, and the grip on his neck loosens just a little and the pushing on his chest falters.

He’s forcefully searching their eyes and there’s a flicker of recognition and the scream fails again, an almost inaudible, sand-paper-rough whisper, “Blue. Blue, blue, hum, hum, hum, blue, blue, magic? BLUE?” and the last part is loud and with fear their voice climbs back up, and their hips buck to try and throw him off, fighting again.

Sans doesn’t let them, and his eyesight blurs as more icy colored drops fall and land on Frisk’s face from his.

“YES! Frisk, _PLEASE_ , _PLEASE, please, Frisk, yes, y-yes, Frisk, it’s me, calm down, please, stop. It’s me, alright? Stop,_ please _, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, its blue, the magic, it’s blue, right? It’s me, PLEASE, Frisk…”_

He trails off and tenses when, not sure if he can let himself hope yet, when their voice falls and the scream topples over like a collapsing building in a clamor of hard, sharp noises, whimpers and whines.

Their hands go slack and limp and Sans’ eyes widen, magic around him jolting and intensifying- dead? _Dead? Did they die again? No. no, no no nonononono-_

“Blue?” air escaped between his teeth and a quiet sob followed. “Sans?” He’s shaking and he’s terrified and his shaking gets even worse, clinking his bones together as he clutches their wrists in a death grip, and a low tumble of sobs falls out of him and he’s _never_ been so happy to hear this kid say his name before in his life- in _any_ of his lives, oh _god—_

35 deaths by cause of this panic attack roll past his mind and his arms go slack against their chest, holding them still in part because he doesn’t want to ever let them go and in part because they flinched and he’s worried they’ll sink back into it again from the pain, but they don’t, and he just fucking _cries_ like he’s a babybones again and the human’s eyes droop in exhaustion and finally fall closed, never dropping contact with the fire of his eye until they’re gone and asleep.

He can feel the pulse of their wrist and the beat of their heart through their chest and he knows they’re alive and he’s so _fucking relieved_ because they’re _alive_ and his brother is just a little bit away, _safe_ , and he rolls off the kid- still clutching one of their hands now for dear life- and sobs into his other hand as his eye burns on with magic until it fades low and flickers out steadily, replaced with two white dots.

He lays there in a pool of two dead men’s blood, healing the kids arm the best he can- it will surely scar- and crying, and he’s never been so happy or relieved as that one moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs*
> 
> the other side of the last chapter.


	11. The Study of Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man Kind is a beast. It is a beast because of its thirst for information. There is no limit in the category of knowledge. the only way to obtain knowledge is through trial, experiment, exploration. And there are infinite things to learn of, from, about, why. 
> 
> Man Kind is a beast, a hungry blood thirsty species that unlike any other animal or creature will sacrifice anything, everything, anyone, and all for the sake of new learning. That is what separates man from animal, and rather then the glorified 'Human Kind is the Studious Learner!' the truth, man kind is a heartless scientist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright alright this took a while to get written and the truth of WHY, is because in this early portion, the first half you'll read...  
> I, uh, got really, really graphic and really, really fuckin dark?  
> and my partner who helps me with proof reading (because i am a terrible fucking speller ugh) was trying to read it over for me?  
> and, uh, i triggered them.  
> fuck  
> like major fuck up, shit  
> anyway my friend went down for the count for a while and i had to like cut out a lot of mind fuckery and gore for the sake of not doing that to any more readers.  
> fuck though that was pretty messed up, when something you wrote actually triggers someone?
> 
> anyway, uh, its not as dark and graphic down bellow, so i think we're all safe, but still, warnings applyif your sensitive to the nature of mind fuckery in general or the cold scientist aspect.
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> on another note!!!  
> I have been getting a lot of requests for if i have a Tumblr by various commentators and I do.  
> I share a tumblr with 4 friends [including the one above who was triggered, that would be Hannah-mun, my sweet child i am so sorry Hannah].  
> A lot of you have things you want to send asks about or submissions so if you wanna show pop over and show me, the name is N-mun (the other muns would be Hannah, Sole, Jaylen and Savannah just for reference, and Jaylen is also a writer if anyone here is interested in his works for Gravity Falls or Rick and Morty). 
> 
> So that tumblr is {{{ http://freedom-and-sorrow.tumblr.com }}} and if you want my attention or you got something to show me, call me N-mun or Nekoto, im almost always online.

Twisted memories. Distorted, like being seen through filters and lenses. Not like movies; at least, not like his favorite movies, not like when he watches Mettaton dancing on screen, with his small human companion or his brother from the couch. It’s like a homemade movie with a bad, old camera; and the bad old camera is broken, and the lens is covered in grime, and the TV is really old.

There’s a mostly-clear, but twisting, distorting curtain in front of the lens; like he should not be looking at these memories; like a curtain on a stage was in the way and the memories aren’t set to begin just yet, but he can still see them.

He’s had memories like this before. They come in dreams. He’d assumed, once upon a time, that they weren’t memories and just weird dreams. But he knows there’s something… important about them.

A lot of them have to do with his brother. Most of them have to do with his human companion. There are many of these… _memories_. They can’t be memories, because- in fact, most- of these things never happened, and others are renditions of _real_ memories he has but are tweaked. He doesn’t much like the tweaked ones at all, because when he’s watching these movies, they overlap with his _real_ memories, and… sometimes, he gets very, very confused on where one stops and the other begins.

But he dislikes the ones that never happened even more than the tweaks. He knows they aren’t dreams, because he doesn’t think or dream so morbidly. They aren’t dreams, but they can’t be memories, because surely _everyone_ would be affected by these things having happened.

Especially because in a lot of them, everyone dies. He’s pretty sure he’d notice if that happened at some point, but even still, he has countless memories of dust and death. Everyone dies in many ways. He can’t truthfully remember which one is which, who dies how. The memories are too broken, too faded, too warped. There’s no detail. He just… knows people are dying.

It’s dark and creepy and it freaks him out some mornings, when he wakes up and he’s sweating as much as his brother does at times, fisting his sheets in bony hands. Some mornings, they freak him out so bad that although he doesn’t quite remember _what_ the dream- memory- whatever it is, it leaves him sitting in his bed for a while, mumbling and babbling, rubbing his scarf and shaking his head, trying to calm down. It’s a bit embarrassing and sometimes he feels a little humiliated when he can’t quite stop, but, he’s up so early in the mornings that no one ever sees it.

His brother is always asleep or out of the house at Frisk’s, and for that much, Papyrus is thankful. His brother… has enough problems. He’s too busy dealing with his own nightmares, and helping their favorite little human with theirs. Sometimes Papyrus thinks about bringing up their nightmares, to see if… maybe their dreaming the same things? But, that’s ludicrous. He forgoes the thought in favor of making everyone- Frisk, Sans, _and_ himself- forget about the bad dreams with other things.

Right now, he’s caught in limbo again. He’s standing in an open expanse of blackness- no, not standing, because there’s no floor, so perhaps he’s just floating? But he recognizes the blackness as it mushes around in an uncomfortable sort. There’s vague shapes amongst it, the patters of walking feet and distant remembered but not remembered conversations- he can pick out hundreds of voices, at times, and others, only a few. Sometimes there’s laughing, sometimes there’s sobbing, sometimes there’s yelling, sometimes there’s screaming. Sometimes, most of the times, if he tries to listen close, he hears his own voice in varieties of moods responding to these voices.

He sits and waits; is he really sitting if he’s just floating, though? Doesn’t matter much. He crosses his legs and just waits.

He’s been through these dreams- memories- whatever enough times. He knows how this works. Whatever it will be this time will show up, and he can either watch it like watching a poorly made VHS or try and fail to block it out, because even if he imagines it’s like watching a movie, it’s not; because it’s in his head, and covering his ears won’t stop the sound, closing his eyes won’t get the pictures out of his mind.

It seeps out of the blackness like ooze, taking form and shape and the voices settle. There’s a buzz in the air, it’s annoying, but there’s no bother to deal with it. He himself, sitting in the darkness, begins to fade, but he’s not worried. He’s only entering the consciousness of the other Papyrus; the one in this memory he can’t remember.

He sees the world through distorted eyes of another skeleton that is himself.

He can see his own body if he cranes to look down. This one isn’t like the other dreams, he notes immedeatly. The other memories. The other _whatever they are_ s. He knows because the feeling of claustrophobia of the underground isn’t present, but there’s a new one, like he hasn’t been free in ages. Trapped. Like an animal.

The emotions float in as Other Papyrus moves; there’s fear and it burns, because The Great Papyrus is brave and doesn’t succumb to fear easily, but this is too much and rots at his nonexistent guts. The discomfort, and the sense of perversion and being invaded is very real. As the Other Papyrus moves, the trigger of the overwhelming surge of emotions, he finds his wrists and, subsequently, arms can’t move. There’s no surprise in the incoming river of emotions; Other Papyrus has been restrained for a very long time. Hands bound at the sides- noticing once that so are his feet, and there’s something keeping his head down flat to the surface under him as well.

His battle body is missing, and that in and of itself would be a real set off. Papyrus’ costume was important. Sans made it. He needed it. And- and his scarf, and his gloves. He needed those. He needed to be able to feel them. Both Other Papyrus and Papyrus could feel the hard edged need to touch the soft fabrics. Other Papyrus’ need was stronger and filled with so much dread and built up emotion that Papyrus felt sympathetic and worried for himself.

The feeling of hands on his person was startling to Papyrus, but not to Other Papyrus. There was only cold dread and fear.

Garbled words mumbled around the room, dark figures of the goopy consistency of the black expanse milled about. Their coats were blinding white, and the only thing that stood out about them other than their blindingly detailed coats on their unfocused forms were the serious, focused expressions. Their words weren’t intelligible to either of the Papyrus’, as they weren’t even a language deemable to understand do to the effects of how distorted the dream was, or to Other Papyrus, who just didn’t understand. Papyrus felt his other self relate it to when Sans when on a binge of science-talk.

Gloved fingers examined his bones, touching over every surface, and discomfort was an understatement. This was disgusting. Papyrus felt sick. His other self bucked at sensitive areas, flinched at others and made noises like smothered sobs, and were Papyrus still himself and not just a conscious thing in his other form’s head, he would have curled in on himself; the constant stream of emotions left him needing to throw up, a sickening mingle of humiliation, intrusion, terror.

He tried to be numb and bring about some sort of indifference to protect his own mind from… _this_ … because he knew he wasn’t really here. But Other Papyrus’ thoughts ran through his head like they were his own. Apparently he’d seen other monsters here; there had been a point when he was in a cell with perhaps a small yellow one, but the person, face, and name were all just a blur of concentrated goop. Papyrus still felt the terror as Other Papyrus must have gotten separated from this other monster, and from the size Papyrus knew it was a child, and the combination of that fact, and the knowledge that a child may be undergoing something like this, and a feeling of failure… he didn’t doubt for a moment that he had tried his best to protect this other monster, for that he tried to be proud, the but the sense of failure at these memories within a memory quelled it in self doubt.

Other Papyrus seemed more scared when the unwanted touches stopped. This surprised Papyrus, but as seconds wore on, the sound of a loud electronic noise hit the air and distilled a frantic fear and the skeleton that was him but not him struggled valiantly but in vain against whatever it was the kept him down. The source came into view- something that looked like a power drill, but longer and more ominous and covered in dust in a sickening mingle that equated to blood- and within seconds, an _excruciating_  pain wracked them both, all else pushed under the sound of a scream through a gag.

The memory ended soon after, a doctor mumbling something about Bone Marrow Experiments, and he found himself in his own body, lost in limbo, huddled tight and shaking.

Several more memories pushed in and out and in and out; Doctoral humans rubbing strange chemicals and substances into his bones that made them react in varieties of ways; made his magic spark uncontrollably, made them so sensitive that a soft tap from a testing hand brought about a loud moan that caused the skeleton more humiliation than he had ever felt in his life, made the bone eat away and dissolve in seconds like contact with potent acid that left him seeing white spots. They tested the strength of his bones, applying pressure to one femur until it cracked up with compound fractures, then set the other on an edge and proceeded how much pressure it would take to snap his bone in half.

The last of the memories for the night faded away like crackling, dying embers in a fire, settling into the overwhelming blackness and Papyrus struggled for air, still hearing himself scream as the final memory of a saw opening up his cranium dipped away into black sludge. The blackness faded slowly and his eyes snapped open.

…

…

…

Sans bunkered down the van –van, bodies, and his loved ones in all- into a second private parking lot just across the street from the more… dreaded one, where he himself had positioned to keep a close eye on the building that probably held all the missing monsters.

As much as he would love to stay put with his missing brother, his mentally-illed best pal, and the missing monster child, there were other monsters to be considered here.

If his memory served him well, for example, there should have been a power surge and the flicker in the window. Loox would then be dust.

But despite it being recurrent in every memory that Sans and Frisk made it this far, there had been no rolling power outage or flickering light show in the window. He might think maybe he was looking at the wrong window at some point, but it was sharpied on the white of his bones from earlier that day.

It had been about an hour at this point since what should have been the moment of the surge, when the force of his magic was disturbed with movement and contact with another magic source.

Sans'd left behind a Gaster Blaster to keep an eye on Frisk and Papyrus; by now, it should have incinerated both the human bodies with a beam and settled inside the van to stand a statue’s watch. While it wasn't sentient and didn't have a mind of its own, it was not merely a weapon of attack like any other of Sans’ bones; Sans couldn't see with it but he got the general idea that the Gaster Blaster had noticed someone was awake after completing its menial assigned task of destroying the two designated corpses, and from the contact of a second magic flowing between Sans and the Blaster’s magical connection, it was either Monster Kid or Papyrus and they were touching it.

Sans abandoned his perch and flickered into existence across the road, in the mostly empty gated parking lot, and climbed up into the back doors of the broken, bloodied vehicle. Since the pair of deaths had been in the van, the street was pristine save a couple drops of blood, and that was irrelevant. When this night was said and done, and this van was annihilated, those little specks would be all that was left in terms of incriminating human death. They were just lucky that this area of the city was pretty quiet this time of night; Sans had some distorted memories from timelines where past him hadn’t bothered with the information, but this whole area was a business type profile and seeing as it was so close to Christmas, most of the offices were closed and this area was particularly barren of people. A van could be trashed and a child could have a panic attack and this area of the city could experience a power flicker and two people could die, and all without a suspicious glance.

Looking forward to the time this van would be destroyed as the mark that this repeat nightmare was finally _over_ , Sans and his short self climbed into the raised back area.

Papyrus was wide awake.

He was leaning on the skull of the blaster with his back to it (probably feeling the familiar, protective hum of Sans' magic and not even questioning the massive thing further), shaking, and he'd pulled his scarf cape over most of his face. His hands rubbed furiously together against one another, and Sans understood how important his brother at times felt in the ways of the texture of his gloves and his scarf. The occasional hiccup interrupted furious-paced and terrified mumbling and babbles to himself.

Sans was concerned, but kept his distance. He couldn’t catch a break, could he? The people he loved most were just following the trendy new game of emotional instability today.

It took Sans a minute to find his voice, watching his brother anxiously and trying to judge what to do; his brother used to do this when he was younger- sometimes for no rhyme or reason, though usually not so intensely; that was reserved for when he was more upset.

Sans mentally hissed to himself, before speaking, because Papyrus had every reason to be upset. I mean, he _had_ been _kidnapped_. “Bro?”

Sans winced when his brother did, but Papyrus edged his scarf down a fraction, enough to see the other skeleton standing by the broken doors. Papyrus pulled it back up soon after, and he kept going on, but Sans was fine with that. Unlike Frisk’s… _moment_ , Papyrus’ wasn’t harmful in the least like this. He’d calm down, that’s what this was; this was what he did to calm down. Trying to stop him normally made it worse, not that Sans ever tried to. This is just how his brother worked. When he saw Sans, the pace of his vocalizations even ed out a little bit, so that was a plus.

In the mean time, now that he had been registered in Papyrus’ surroundings, he could move around without worrying about startling his brother and making anything worse. He moved further in and lightly tapped his teeth to the top of Papyrus’ head. His brother shuttered with audible bone clinking in response, but he knew Papyrus was thankful. Sans pat his shoulder once reassuringly, which earned another clatter of bones, before moving back to where he’d left Frisk, lying beside the Blaster nice and close, just as he had left Pap and the other kid; there were few things that would dare get so close to something like the Gaster Blasters of their own free will. It would scare off anyone who shouldn’t be going near his unconscious friends. Very safe.

The kid’s shirt was still covered in blood- theirs, and the long-gone other human’s. He’d healed them the best he could, and left them wrapped in his jacket, worried that the chill would get to them in the torn up top; the van wouldn’t be driving anywhere any time soon as his bone attack had pierced through a wheel axel, but the vehicle still worked and pumped warm air; Hed situated moth Frisk and Monster kid in direct area. Sans looked them over, for signs that they’d moved since he’d left them- there were none- checked over their injuries again just to be sure, and made sure he could see their breathing and feel their heart beating. He didn’t know what much else to do with the unconscious human.

He moved over to Monster Kid, too, tucked not far from Frisk. He didn’t seem much hurt from the ordeal, the worst of it being some bruising on the head- where he must have been hit to be knocked unconscious, he figured angrily. He’d healed that away, too. He’d also healed the same thing off of Papyrus, as well as a few other things on his brother. Papyrus had put up a fight pre-kidnap; Sans didn’t doubt he’d lost because he didn’t want to hurt the humans.

He decided he wouldn’t say anything about the fact that the kidnappers were dead now to anyone, not if he could help it. He didn’t know how killing one of the humans would affect Frisk when they woke up, though, so he might have to confess to Toriel or someone for the sake of his kid’s mental health…

Now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

Sans stopped to check on Frisk again, anxiously checking their vitals, before returning again to Papyrus.

“Need anything, Pap?” Sans asked carefully. There was a convenience store just a little ways away. Sans vaguely remembered a timeline where he’d lost the van and Frisk, and he’d seen a different white van and stopped there once, but kept going when it was obviously not the same van considering it was an older model with a nursing home sign on its side. He eventually found Frisk again that timeline, but only after the power surge. Frisk had already gone inside the building without him and had been steadily breaking down into another panic attack.

He stopped thinking about it immediately, because it wouldn’t help anyone to remember the kid’s panic or how they managed to off themselves again in the midst of it.

Papyrus keened quietly, so Sans prompted carefully, “Water?” Papyrus nodded. “Food?” He shook his head. “Anything else?” he shook his head again. “Alright, bro. stay right here, I’ll be back real soon with some water. ‘aight?”

When he got another nod, Sans carefully patted his shoulder again, before turning and jumping out of the van. He paused when he was back on the ground, and looked back. His eye flickered on long enough to strengthen the flow of his magic between him and the blaster, and Papyrus sand further against it and the comfort it offered. Sans smiled as always in a sad manner.

He jogged the short distance- he didn’t have a short cut, but the place was only a little ways away, just a couple buildings down. He stopped to look himself up and down. He had blood all over him; it was Frisks. Which was very unsettling. And he… probably shouldn’t go in like that.

He made his way to the outside doors that lead to a couple bathrooms, vigorously scrubbing the handprints of blood off his spine at the sink, and turned his shirt inside out; the thick turtleneck had prevented the inside from staining through, thankfully, and his jacket had caught most of the blood anyway. He stayed at the mirror a couple of seconds to make sure his smile looked… less… _angry_ or freaked out then he was feeling. Because that wouldn’t help much, either, walking in and being seen as an angry skeleton might send humans screaming.

He went in and out quickly. The cashier didn’t mind much at all seeing the walking skeleton, though her co-worker almost screamed upon seeing Sans; the cashier had laughed at the man and his squeak of fright. Sans force an amused chuckle, and bought an arm fulls of bottled waters and two small packets of pain med pills. They would work for the two kids, and again, he was not a grade-A healer. They’d be in pain when they woke. He wished briefly that these things worked for skeletons, for Pap’s sake, as he bought everything. He wished circle-Ks carried monster food for healing purposes, but sadly, they did not.

He jogged back and returned to the van, and climbed in. Papyrus had moved; he’d found Frisk and Monster kid, and while he was still rubbing and tugging on his glove in one hand between his fingers and his scarf was still high up to most of his face, one shaking hand was tracing frightfully over Frisk’s battered, scarred arms through the blood soaked fabric.

Papyrus jumped slightly before settling when he realized the figure climbing in was Sans. He accepted a water that his brother opened for him- Papyrus’ hands were shaking far too bad but even if they weren’t Sans would still try and baby him in this situation- and it all disappeared to be magically dispersed through his body when Papyrus pulled down his scarf long enough to drink it all. He replaced his scarf over his face and leaned his shoulder back into the humming weapon of the Blaster.

“Wh-what…” Papyrus started after a few minutes of silence, his brother sitting beside him and leaning on his other shoulder, now humming wit magic as his eye glowed. Papyrus shuttered again at the surrounding of his brother’s protective magic. “What happen- happened to Frisk?”

Sans deflated. He was sure the circles around his eyes had to be really dark with how tired he felt.

“…you remember what I told you from the hospital stay? How Frisk said there was ‘still something else’ they couldn’t talk about?” He and his brother had talked about everything that had happened over those early, intense days and the 8 weeks in the hospital. Sans had his secrets from his brother, but Papyrus wouldn’t let him keep any about Frisk, and frankly, Sans didn’t want to keep Frisk’s mental health a secret from his brother. Papyrus was good with this kind of thing; after all, he’d been Sans’ sole purpose in life for years.

Papyrus nodded once, a little bit jerky. Sans rubbed his eye socket with his palm, sighing in exhaustion. “Well, it’s one hell a ‘something else’, pap.”

They lapsed into silence. Sans couldn’t find words to describe… _it_ right now if he tried, and he didn’t feel like trying. Papyrus was still fumbling for grasp on himself without trying to collect his thoughts on Frisk’s complex issues right now.

Sans handed him another water, patting his shoulder again. “Lay down and try and get some rest, Pap. You need it.

Papyrus nodded. This time as he laid down, pressing his back again to the massive skull, Papyrus pulled both Frisk and Monster Kid close to him, still in direct contact with the heater. Sans sighed as he left his collection of more bottles of water within his brother’s reach and pressed his teeth to his brother’s head again with a quiet click, before starting out of the van.

“Wh-where…?”

“Gotta keep an eye out.” Sans answered. “Undyne’s coming soon, I gotta keep my sockets wide open.” He laughed dryly at himself. He didn’t bring up the place just across the street. He didn’t want to or need to. “Just stay in here… rest up so Undyne doesn’t jump your bones for getting so beat up. And knock on the thing if you need me or if either of kids wake up for me, alright, bro?” he motioned to the blaster. Sans would feel it if he did, just as he had felt when Papyrus had woken and leaned on it.

Papyrus nodded quietly. Sans missed his yelling and his loud voice. He jumped to the ground again, and jogged away, before flashing back into his hidden space in the next small parking lot over. But after only a couple minutes, jumped out of the shadow. He was tired of waiting for a surge that wasn’t coming.

Time to do some investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that tumblr is {{{ http://freedom-and-sorrow.tumblr.com }}} and if you want my attention or you got something to show me, call me N-mun or Nekoto, im almost always online. ((just repeating that down here in case your like me and dont typically read the top notes))


	12. Sound the Drums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all societies, there is a common share. Even beyond that of man, this law exists in the beasts and creatures of the land and sea. That common, an act known as "The Cry Of Distress", transcends species and breed alike. It is instinctual. The cry of a starving newborn, the scream of an injured animal, the sobs of a terrified singular. The Cry Of Distress is a powerful force that is used, because it works. It exposes danger, and it rallies help.
> 
> The Cry Of Distress is not often obvious, and sometimes it is blatantly clear. It can come from many at once, or only one. It is instinctual, and a single cry can either start a war or shake one down to the core in fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i meant for this to be longer and posted on christmas, but, uh, so a sex offender broke into my house in the middle of the night like a week ago and thats been a fucking ordeal between cops and the what-what. On a side note, i am a violent person and if you break into my house i have zero qualms about breaking your legs with a big ass metal bat, which is what went down; no one was hurt but mr. broken legs to anyone who might be worried, me and the roomates are allfine. Actually, i think two of them want me to teach them self defense shit now, because i pulled an Undyne and suplexed the guy (no, not really, but i did body slam him, and i am very small, so everyone was really surprised when i did.)

Undyne’s arrival in the city was signaled by Alphys’ phone call. The Reptile woman called him into a conference call, and on a second line bellowed a far-too calm voice of the fish woman.

She was geared for a war.

A third, more surprising phone line in their conference call, was shared between Toriel and Asgore on the same phone. They announced their presence and that they were listening, but other than that they were solemn and quiet. Sans expected at least some questions about Frisk or Papyrus or Monster Kid. Sans was glad they didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to explain _this_ over the phone.

The phone call started with Alphys saying she was guiding Undyne through the city, and that the Task Force of monsters had commandeered a pair of school buses and they were only a short ways from the current location of Sans’ cell phone.

At that information, Sans immediately short cutted himself to the rip in space he had forcefully crafted in the second parking lot. He’d been inside the dreaded building for the past hour, and when Undyne showed up, he couldn’t have her going right up to the building following Alphys’ instructions.

When he teleported back, he brought with him something, but that was best left for later, when Undyne showed up; for now, he tossed it in the driver’s seat.

Alphys turned over the conversation to Undyne when Sans went back out into the open parking lot and paced.

Undyne was still calm, cold, collected. She was calculative. She was a major general and once the head of the strongest force in the underground. Undyne knew what she was doing. Frisk’s call for an army had been smoothly handled. Sans listed off a description of the parking lot they were situated in and the van they were bunkered down with to her, as he used magic to tear open the electric gate off its mechanisms and opened it wide for the soon to come caravan of monsters.

Sans also told Undyne that he had information on the enemy and targets for when she got there. Undyne told him Asgore and Toriel were with her Guardsmen in the second bus. To which Asgore spoke up, and said he would be present for the sake of politics and to keep anything out of hand under control, and there was an unspoken obvious reason that Toriel was here for Frisk, as well as her spoken explanation that, as one of the best healers in the underground, should there actually be fighting, she would be needed here; she would try to keep all casualties, human and monsters alike, out of the death range for the sake of Human-Monster relations.

Sans did not mention the two who were already dead.

Instead they all hung up. It would only be minutes left until they arrived; talk would continue then.

Sans climbed up into the back of the van and gingerly moved closer toward where his brother huddled with the two children, all three of them asleep. Sans carefully patted his brother’s shoulder, “Bro, you in that empty skull? Gotta get up, Pap.”

Papyrus jerked awake as Sans dismissed the massive Gaster Blaster, reabsorbing its magic supply and cutting off the steady flow that Papyrus had been using to calm himself. After a second, Papyrus focused and looked up at his brother.

He looked significantly better; much calmer, especially. “You alright, bro?”

Papyrus sat up slowly, shaking out his skull. Truth be told, Papyrus didn’t know. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, how much of what he remembered had or hadn’t happened, or anything. Apparently he still wasn’t pulled together right, though, because when he finally responded, his voice was still dreadedly quiet and sounded like a hushed mutter. “I- I feel better.”

Sans’ smile was in jeopardy off dropping off his face, but he broadened it despite himself. “’s good, Pap. S’all gunna be fine soon. Undyne is going to get here any minute. She’s got Tori, too. Tori’ll fix you right up, everything… everything I couldn’t.” Sans feeling useless? What? Of course not, that’s ridiculous. “She’ll get you and- and frisk. S’all gunna be okay.”

Papyrus looked down at Frisk, and carefully ran a gloved hand over their exposed, scarred arms. Papyrus knew his brother well, and even when he felt- felt like _this_ , muggy and detached- when his brother verbally exposed his guilt like that, it was quite impossible for Papyrus to miss it. “You did good, Sans. I- I’m sorry.”

Sans let out a winded air like he’d just received an underhanded blow. It didn’t need to be said out loud, because when the word ‘sorry’ passed between them, Sans knew what Papyrus meant. He knew his brother meant not defending himself to the best he could. It was something Sans had used to try and tell his brother, time and time again, to work on and change; but Papyrus never could take a life, or even severely injure another. It was something Sans had, many years ago, tried to tell his brother he would have to do at some point, because some day there’d be someone that talking to wouldn’t help.

Sans could feel his brother’s guilt, because maybe if he’d fought a little harder, he and monster kid wouldn’t have gone anywhere, and by result, no one would have gotten hurt, except the humans if he had defended himself more forcefully.

“Don’t be sorry, fuck, bro, none of this happened _because_ of you- it happened _to_ you.” Sans had long since decided he didn’t want his brother to change. He didn’t try to change Papyrus anymore, he wanted his brother to be proud of the fact that he didn’t have EXP, and he didn’t gain LOVE, because Sans was _very_ proud of that. “Don’t you dare be sorry. Alright? You aren’t allowed to be. You did your absolute best, and you did it the way The Great Papyrus would have, that’s not something anyone should be sorry about.”

Papyrus nodded quietly. He shifted a little and held the damaged Frisk up to his chest, cradled in his long bone arms. He pressed his Forehead to theirs with his eyes closed. “I had a good day planned for us, human… to- to… to cheer you up. I didn’t mean for you to end up like this.”

Frisk’s eyes, they both suddenly noticed, were actually half open as a strained noise escaped the young human. A blood soaked, tattered sleeve poked out of the jacket wrap and small bloodied fingers clumsily pulled the scarf down and off the lower half of the skeletons’ face to their own; it was the closest Frisk could reach without trying to sit up, and that was out of the question, so they pressed their lips to that in a mumble and kiss.

Papyrus’ grip tightened and Sans, crossed between a suffocating mixture of affection and sorrow as he watched, heard the sound of a passing car that didn’t actually pass and, finally, turned into the opened gate. He turned his skull over his shoulder and, sure enough, one of the powder-yellow older busses Toriel had purchased used for her school wheezed into the parking lot.

He’d been sitting in the PTA committee just yesterday (god, _yesterday_ felt like it was _years_ ago) about raising funds to get newer buses. How had he gone from PTA meetings to repeating the same day over and over trying to save his kidnapped brother?

Lesser dog, in the driver’s seat, had barely applies the squeaking sigh of the breaks before Undyne had stormed down the steps and forced the doors open- bending them the wrong way in her speed and forceful exit, decked in a lighter version of her old Head of the Guard armor for the new stuff she’d bought above ground.

“Your rescue party’s here, Pappy, Frisk.” Sans turned back, pained smile fitted in place. Papyrus had looked up, too, and his hold on Frisk hadn’t slackened even as he watched the large automobile produce one of his best friends.

Undyne descended upon the van in only seconds, and found them there just as she had been told. She didn’t miss the smears of blood splattered around inside, but her attention narrowed in on the blood stained child instead, as well as her boney friend and student which held them. Her guard-woman manor dipped away long enough for her distress and rage to be exposed in her expression, before she jumped inside and stomped to their side. She ignored Papyrus’ involuntary flinch as she dropped to one knee beside him.

The second bus was pulling in behind them, and with a short glance back to it, Sans could make out Toriel and Asgore already pushing to the front as the first one steadily poured out it’s Royal-Guard-Task-Force contents.

“-are you hurt?” Undyne demanded- she’d already been speaking, but Sans only clued in to catch that part. Papyrus looked confused at the question. He could feel the ghosts of aches and pains from his… _dreams? Memories?_ As usual; the dream was still too fresh for them to have faded. They mingled with whatever of them that could possibly be real.

Papyrus settled for a weak shrug, holding Frisk a little tighter, sinking back into his scarf and running his thumb over the barely conscious child’s cheek, feeling the comforting thickness of his glove fabric and the skeletal frame work of the child’s bones under their skin. Both were soothing. Frisk shuttered violently and sank further into his hold with a distorted sound that might have been a whine, or maybe a sigh?

Undyne frowned and scooped up Monster Kid, still looking a Papyrus. She offered him a hand up with her free one. “Come on, Papyrus. We’ll get all of you to safety. You should feel honored, you’ve got the whole of the Royal Guard here to save you.”

Papyrus looked at her, and after a second, took her hand with his own. She pulled him up, and Sans hopped up too. Papyrus stumbled and Sans carefully took the dead weight of Frisk from his arms so Papyrus could lean on Undyne, who helped him down out of the van. He almost had to pry the human from Papyrus. Sans stood back, closer to the drivers seat, and watched as Undyne helped Papyrus climb down, making sure to be ready to catch his brother with magic should he slip.

Toriel and Asgore finally pushed themselves out of their bus- wheels still turning, even. The minute their eyes caught sight of the emerging trio of Undyne, Monster Kid, and Papyrus, they descended without hesitation and with distressed noises, both their hands lighting with warm, fire-colored healing magics as Toriel immediately took over Papyrus’ weight and scanned him- healing away scarred bone marks and scratches Sans had failed to himself- and Asgore engulfed the unconscious Monster child.

Undyne turned back to the van, looking at Sans, who clutched Frisk in a death grip, bundled in his jacket, still hesitating in the back of the blood marred van. Toriel would take Frisk the moment she laid eyes on them, and… Sans wasn’t ready to let the kid out of his sight just yet. Which was selfish, because Toriel could heal them and fix them, and surely their mother’s welcoming arms were what Frisk needed to settle their nerves? Frisk was still shaking and their little fingers had dug out one of his, tangling two ice cold human hands and one of bone into a mess and clutching for dear life.

Sans looked down at the child and his teeth grounded against one another. Frisk’s weak hand reached up and gripped his shirt after a moment.

“It hurts.” It was quiet, it was thick, and it was so swallowed and garbled, that Sans almost couldn’t understand. “It stops hurting when I can’t breathe.” He remembered when Frisk had stopped breathing. Too many times when they stopped breathing. Too many times. Like a few hours ago. “Why’d you make me breathe again? It hurts.”

That was a really bad blow, right to his nonexistent heart. He swayed and his arm and hand both tightened. The whites of his eyes vanished and he kind of felt like he was suffocating, even though unlike them, he didn’t _need_ to breathe. He was a painful thought to understand that even though the kids severe attack had ended-

-they’d still rather of stopped breathing.

Undyne must have seen his change, because he heard her make a surprised sound and shift. But he couldn’t even comprehend her, or anything a beyond an inches’ radius.

A vague gurgle escaped Frisk. Sans mimicked it with a strange noise of his own, pressing his forehead to theirs, pinching his hollowed eyes closed and a tremor passed through his bones as it did the human’s.

It was hard to explain, but somehow both Frisk and Sans knew that the other had said ‘sorry’. Even though neither of them could quite choke out the word. But they were both so sorry. So very, very sorry. Sans could feel it coming from Frisk in waves, everything they were sorry for; for all these re-loads, for all these panic attacks, for all their previous failures to save Papyrus, sorry for saying such- such a thing like that. He had the distinct feeling that Frisk understood what he was sorry for, too. Sorry he’d not done better at healing or fighting or helping them, sorry he hadn’t known about these fits enough to help them, sorry he had let everything get so bad and that he couldn’t- couldn’t figure out what to do.

So he held them tight and listened to their heart beating in their pulse until he could finally shape words.

“Don’t give up, kid. Your Mom-ster will fix you up, good as new so it wont hurt, and Undyne and I will make sure everyone else is safe and sound.”

They tugged on his shirt, mumbling something he couldn’t fully hear. He squeezed his eyes closed tighter for a moment, “…Kid, this isn’t fair of me to ask…” Sans opened them again, one of his eyes gone and the other glowing a dim blue. “But, be strong. Tough it out. Just- just a little bit longer. Just be okay for me for a little while, a little while longer. Be Frisk for just a little while more, okay? Be strong, like always.”

Was it fair to say that? _Tough it out?_ Isn’t that what did… _this_ to Frisk in the first place? Being strong, toughing it out, _strong independent Frisk_ had made them into emotion-bottling, fatally anxious, self destructive Frisk? It wasn’t right to ask of them to be strong- they were just a child, they shouldn’t _have_ to _be_ this tough.

His eye intensified and their grip loosened a little on his hand and his shirt, their distress lulled by the glowing blue color. Frisk _had_ to be strong. Just for a little while. “Be strong, long enough so I can fix all of this. I’ll make it all better. Be strong so you wont have to be tomorrow. You don’t have to be okay after that, alright? I’ll fix today, make all of this go away, and then- and then we’ll- then you don’t have to be okay if you aren’t. Alright, buddy?”

The sound of Toriel gasping and almost screaming meant his time was up. The goat woman scrambled as she climbed into the van, and Sans lifted his head from Frisks as the mother scrambled up to them, still under the scrutinizing gaze of Undyne, and now Asgore whom stifled a noise of horror as he looked up at them, too.

Toriel’s terrified paws hovered, shaking, over Frisk’s bloody form. “M-my child…” Sans could see the fear and memories dancing in her eyes.

“You’re not gunna lose another one, Tori.” Sans mumbled, then finally forced his eye to stop glowing. “Frisk’s too tough for that.” Those words bit him back. Because he didn’t want Frisk to have to be tough right now, even if he needed them to be, even if Toriel needed them to be. Because Frisk didn’t need to be tough. They should be allowed to bawl and cry like a kid and not be dealing with that shit from a few hours ago and should not be wishing they were still dead and _should not be here_.

Toriel made a chocked noise and her hands set on fire with a powerful intensity to heal her half-dead-looking child. “… th-they… they- they’re already…?” Toriel sounded deeply relieved and surprised at the lack of open injury; the blood and tears all over the human and their clothes had set the queen ready for the worst.

“I tried my best.” Sans breathed, willingly passing her the child as Toriel quickly tried to take them over. Frisk shifted weakly and settled into Toriel’s still glowing, healing palms as Toriel finished what Sans had started. A shaking bone hand settled on the kid’s forehead, pushing back blood-soaked bangs, before pressing his teeth to their ghostly pale, cold skin. “I tried my best, kid. I can’t afford to be lazy.” The words resonated deep and struck powerful cords in the both of them. Sans said them when he was at his most serious of missions- killing Chara. He would say them again for right now, for this very moment. “I can’t afford not to try my dammed best, Frisk. Undyne and I will get everyone back, and we’ll all come home safe, you included.”

Undyne jumped up inside the van as well, “You listen to your bone pal, brat. Madjesty’ll fix you and pap up, and Sansy’ll get everyone out of that place, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t get a damn scratch on him in the process, you hear me? Everything’ll be fine.” Undyne- although she and Sans were more of a ‘mutual through a friend’ which would be Papyrus- through and arm around Sans and shook him up a little good naturedly. “not even _one_ damn scratch.”

Toriel nodded in assurance and agreement to Undyne, “The both of you have such terrible language.” She wheezed, still focused on her child, letting out a shaky, dry laugh. She only looked up to look at Asgore, who watched on, still holding Monster Kid and now had Papyrus leaning on him, the tall skeleton watching on in serious concern. “Asgore, get the both of them in our bus to the healing station.” She ordered. He didn’t hesitate, listening to his ex-wife immediately.

Toriel slowly climbed out of the back of the van, following after, her precious cargo cradled close in her arms; the two-bus-worth of battle-ready monsters watched on with mixtures of distress and anger as their queen cradled their bloodied ambassador, and their king supported an innocent monster child and the ‘self proclaimed mascot’ who had been working to join their ranks as a member of the royal guard for as long as any of them could remember.

Left standing together in the van, Undyne and Sans turned to face each other when the kind and queen entered the second bus. “So about the _war_ our human called for.” Undyne’s tone was steeped with cold fury, now that she’d seen her friends and their condition for herself she couldn’t possibly mask it _all_.

Sans nodded grimly and moved to retrieve the thing he’d left in the driver’s seat, flipping open a file he’d stolen from the building itself. “Tonight we storm the castle. Within the hour.” He flips the file open, his own fury barely masked under false-calm, half lidded eyes that scan a list of room numbers and descriptions of the various monsters in them. “Our target. Point Clear Federal Laboratory of Bio Study.”

Undyne nodded calmly and took the thick file he offered, flipping the page to reveal papers and scrabble notes in Sans’ own hand writing and anything of strategic value or use he could find- including everything from a map of the 5 floors that held all the monsters with rooms highlighted, a schedule of when each experiment would begin and end, and lists of doctors and scientists on duty. Sans had taken many photos with his phone, too, and intended to take more for possible legal issues with their… _raid_.

“Then lets storm the castle.” Undynes soldier-calm tone was loud and boisterous to be heard by all her troops, who rallied with a cry of warat her declaration. Undyne and Sans jumped out of the van and they both watched calmly- soon joined by Asgore, who would join them on their raid- alongside the small army of the finest of monster fighters as Sans’ blaster incinerated the bloody van, like a signal fire that would signal the start of their war.

All but Toriel, the injured, and two guards marched out onto the roadway, Sans tearing down the private parking lots’ gate and its back door for the flood of monsters.

After tonight, this repeat night of endless horror would finally be _over_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the feels trip has reached its destination, my children. 
> 
> tune into the next books so we can get off the bus for the attraction itself. if you survived.

**Author's Note:**

> well, no, the feels trip has not started yet; this chapter is you just signing the permission slip.
> 
> Nekoto is not liable for any injuries to your feels or the loss of and hearts. Proceed future pages at your own risk.
> 
> Sign your name here to agree that you have been notified of the Terms of Service and understand that this will most likely bu fuckin' painful: _________________________


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